Chemistry -22 One shots
by Loveforthestory
Summary: Because in every episode, there is that energy. Chemistry. What would happened if we would have seen that energy turn into scenes? Something raw, or sweet, or sizzling, or hot or vulnerable. But always Charloe.
1. One shot One -Her

**When I write my stories, there are always those moments when the Charloe chemistry explodes. I have a little notebook filled with those moments.** **I've decided to use those little ideas. Because in every episode, there is that energy. What would happen if that energy would turn into something more? Every one shot is an answer to the question of what would happen if something more happened between Charlie and Bass in this point of the story you know from the episodes? In every one shot time resets, so the story until this scene will be the canon story you know from the episodes.**

 **These are 22 one shots, one for every episode for season two. Today we start in New Vegas.**

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Her

 _You're asking the wrong question, ask me why I couldn't?" " "Because we are still brothers."_

 _Miles words, the last time he saw his brother after he ran, ran from anything. Walked for miles, endless days, alone, solitutde. Finding a miserable life of fucking, fighting. There is guilt. Shame. And the endless directionless as he lives his life here in this messed up trailer and this tent town where he can disappear, live his life as Jimmy King._

The door of his trailer was shut again. Footsteps disappeared. Bass grabbed his shirt from the bed behind him and puts on his shirt. while his trailer smelled like nauseating perfume that screamed whore. He had just banged another whore. Before that he had fought another fight. The fight tent had been crowded and he had filled himself with numbing rage.

Took the punches to fight his pain.

After the fight, the hollowness came.

And now he ended up here, in New Vegas. He fought his fights in Gould's tent, and there was one person in the middle of this miserable place who knew who he really was. He had trusted Duncan Paige with that. One connection to his old life.

It had been six months after the tower, and now it was just him in a pathetic trailer in New fucking Vegas, images hunted him down again with flyers about the Philly fall out always there in his trailer to read again. And Again. Flynn, the tower, destruction. He had no fucking energy to keep them out anymore.

Loss _. Miles_. Guilt. _The Tower_. Rage. _Philly._

Miserable endless days after Miles had let him the fuck go when Tom Neville had the fucking nerve to take over.

Miles should have fucking shot him right there, that day outside the tower. But he hadn't. Because they were still brothers. He was not even sure if Miles was alive.

And from Miles, his mind took a detour and ended up with her. His niece. Somebody, some girl from his past, a girl from pictures, living in Chicago, he met a couple of times. But that was before.

He met her again on that one day just outside Philly.

When he had walked into the scarcely lit room, his focus had been on Rachel Matheson, the amplifier and the fact that he had been completely and utterly done with her games.

One of his men had informed him the children were waiting with Rachel. When he had walked in the room his attention was on Rachel, on what he just told Strausser to do if she would make one wrong one.

A piece of Miles, so fucking close. Deep dark blonde hair that was lightened up by the candles in the room, a brown leather jacket, legs curled up under her, her attention on her little brother who was slouched down a small couch, just behind Rachel.

He had heard her name countless times. Ben and Rachel's daughter. He had seen her name in so many damn reports. She seemed to be everywhere and the reason why his brother had been on his way to him.

 _Nice to finally meet you, Charlotte. I am General Monroe._

There was this flash of insecurity in her eyes, sitting in front of him, close to Danny, him towering over her, calm. But then, those blue eyes had filled with determination and loathing and so much fucking more that it had blew him away. His voice calm, his insides raging. He swore that god damn amplifier would work, and he did not care what the fuck he had to do. He had her children, right there. He had here where he had wanted her to be.

Rachel Matheson had walked away from her children, from Ben, from her family. To protect them. But he knew her secrets. She had walked away from them, leaving her entire fucking family on the side of the road. She had walked away from them, but _to_ Miles. She had a part in messing this whole world up beyond recognition.

He had told Charlotte, that there was so much about her mother she did not know. He had seen the cold hate and panic in Rachel's eyes. Because it was the fucking truth. He mentioned what she had done, the screwdriver into another's man chest to save her own fucking life. He used it. Watched Charlotte look up from him to her precious mom.

Rachel's eyes had told him he won.

 _Oh I am sure there is a lot about your mom you don't know._

His eyes held Charlotte's eyes, and it was blue that locked into blue.

Submissiveness. Fear.

Flirtation, smiles, woman where he wanted them to be in seconds.

But not her.

While Strausser was only adding more pressure, Charlotte talked to Rachel. Her voice strong, her eyes strong. Eyes that reminded him so much of Miles. Rachel was in tears, but not her. Not Charlotte. He saw the emotions running behind her eyes, but she stayed so fucking determined.

She was blazing, storming. A wave of loyalty and protectiveness and so much fucking bravery when she stood up for her brother, when she stood up for him in front of the most dangerous man in his republic. In front of him.

Charlotte stood in front of that gun, her eyes fixed at Strausser. Blue firing. She did not move. She did not move one fucking inch.

His heartbeat picked up, his mouth fell open slightly. He felt something stir against the fabric of his pants. His eyes were glued on her. His tongue pressed against his teeth while he felt a first raw shot through his gut.

Rachel pleading for him to stop. _Weakness._ Her voice far away but his had only been eyes on her. Only on her. Only on Charlotte.

He had turned around, calmly. One more loot at Rachel. And when he had walked out of the room, he had to look at Charlotte again, Charlotte's piercing eyes in his.

He had walked back to his office. Nodding at his men in the hallway. When he had reached his office his hard on had been throbbing with her intensity. He put his hands on the desk in front of him, told himself to get a fucking grip. Poured himself a whiskey.

And even after months, she, that moment, her strength and those fucking blue eyes would not leave him the hell alone.

His system filled with bad booze, the hooker he had just banged had just left his trailer. But it was not enough to keep her out.

 _Charlotte Matheson._

She broke lose raw desire, the need to pin her down, her thighs between his legs, keeping her in one damn place while he would fill her. Fuck her. Those blue eyes firing into him, his hand in her hair, around her neck, on her hips pulling her close. And when he took her, she would moan, she would always give the fuck in at the end, with every rigid trust inside of her he would draw her in.

He was hard again. He was in Philly again.

Her eyes were mocking him, playing with him while he would take a step towards her. His hands would touch her slowly. Her tits would fill his hands, her first moan a personal victory. Her slender body, curves and young strength, trained by Miles, would be all his. His.

His hand disappeared into his pants, and he eagerly started to jerk off. He leaned into the wall with one hand. His fingers around his hard on, moving and pumping slowly.

He would wait. Wait for her to give in. Because she would. She would move her smooth skin against his, standing between his legs, and his eyes, they would fucking beg for him. Only then, he would take her. Fill her. Fuck her.

The thought of his name, her surrender, almost made him come in his own hand. His movements were faster, while he needed that release. Her ass against his stomach, her hips under his hands, her moaning. He was pounding into her, fast, intense. Against his desk, between papers, with his men outside. Tasting her, pushing her into him. His body all around her.

He came with force, letting out a deep groan.

Release.

Tomorrow he would wake up. Maybe see Duncan. Meet Gould. Still miserable. Hung over. He would fight again. Be Jimmy King again.

Forget about who he used to be. What used to be. Forget about Miles, forget about her. _Charlotte._

He would meet a young blonde girl, who he had met before after a fight at the bar. SHe would ask him how he could do this every night. He would tell her it was better than his last job. She would have shoulder length straight blonde hair, a dress that floated around her tits, deep eyes and lush lips. She would flirt with him, would be asking him for a part of him for that night, he would give in.

But she, this woman here in Vegas with so much of Charlotte in her, she would not fill his raw hunger.

Because she was not her.

In less than 24 hours she would crash back into his life.


	2. One shot two -The Fence

**Hey lovely everyone, thanks for coming back for chapter two. As promised, I would update today and I think I will update a couple of more chapters as well. In this one shot, Charlie and Bass will have a very intense first meeting.**

 **This scene reveals something new that happens when Charlie and Bass come together, just like in every one shot.**

 **Enjoy your day, Love**

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One shot two

The fence

After walking all the way to Philly, after Vegas, after the bountyhunters, Charlie tracks down Monroe. Determined to finish what she started. What is about to happen is something she never expected.

Bass met her again. Charlie Matheson. Charlotte if he wants to toy with her. And it is her, that crashes back into him, at a dark night where he is ending the sons of bitches of bountyhunters that dared to touch him, that messed with him and had the fucking stupid idea to think they had a change against him..

Bass clenched his teeth, locked his jaws. Santa Claus with eye patch ovet here was dead already, but he was struggling a little more. It did not matter. The old bounty hunter would be dead soon. He put his boot on one of his hands as the pathetic guy tried to fight him, pressing it to his side, pushing him further into the ground, adding more pressure on his neck and with his boot onto his hand. Focussed on only that, focussed on his breathing, focussed his rage on this one pathetic asshole. One more second, one more struggled sound coming from the assholes throat and then it was all fucking over. The asshole was dead.

He was somewhere in the middle of the woods, a day or two from New Vegas. Had spent one day tied up in some empty pool. Those two bounty hunter assholes had put him in the back of their wagon after they had lead him away from the pool, away from her. But the broken tile he had broken lose in the pool had given him the perfect escape. He knew they would follow him and he was counting on that. Given him his change to snap their fucking necks.

Of course, within seconds, asshole number two was there. Knocking him of his damn feet, landing a blow into his fucking face. The rage came back, as he punched back, ramming his knees into the assholes chest, giving him the space to place another well placed hit. The asshole moved back, and although he put up some fight, Bass knew this asshole would not stand any change either. He felt his punch in the face and used it to breath in more anger. Another punch, another hit and then he had the guy against the fence behind them. His left arm firmly against his neck. He could feel the energy shift in the second bounty hunter, He had him already unconsious. and he just focussed again on the rage, on holding on, on that focussed feeling of focussed killing.

That was until Bass registered footsteps behind him. Until he felt something sharp and cold and heavy crash into his shoulder. It broke him from his grasp he had on the bounty hunter asshole and pushed him against the metal fence, the fence trembling with his weight, the noise of him crashing into it, harsh in the night air.

Charlie

She was here.

With every hit she took, he heard her breathing, he heard her cry out. Fuck, she knew how to hit. Miles trained her well.

He tried to reason with her, because somehow his mind had fucking decided that he could not hurt her, he could not kill her. His movements were aimed at avoiding her punches, his arms trying to take her punches without actually having to hurt her back, deflecting her blows.

'Charlie, stop. Charlie, stop it.' He growled at her.

His voice pierced through, but not enough to stop her.

She had gotten out of her ropes, the bounty hunter leaving her alive. As soon as she got out of the ropes, she had tracked them, followed them. Found the wagon, knowing he had escaped. This was Monroe, she knew he could handle those idiots. She had told them. She had run all the way here, firing up her anger. She had walked in on Monroe trying to kill the younger man, his face on edge with deadly aim, and she had had barely slowed down on her way to him, grabbed the first heavy thing she could find on the ground, the metal pipe cold in her hands, and had started to launch her attack on Monroe.

Somehow, in the back of her mind, she realised he was calling her Charlie, not Charlotte. It was weird and enraged her even more. Another hit, letting the metal pipe in her hand crash into him.

Another hit, in a rhythm that was fuelled by her anger and Miles' training. Monroe was not hitting back, only deflecting her punches, which only added to her rage.

Bass realised Charlie was not going to stop, and he watched her move, waited one second and got down to one knee, giving him time and room to punch her right between her ribs, knocking the wind out of her for a moment, that moment he needed to make her stop and make her stop moving. At the same time, he moved around her, the metal pipe falling out of her hands. One easy movement and he had her pinned down against the fence behind them.

She tried to hit anything, inflict more pain, let more of her old mantra of needing, wanting, craving him dead when she was barely able to breathe herself. And then, his body, his strength, his arms, and thighs and chest, that felt like the steal of the pipe she held in her hands seconds ago, held her in one place, crashing her into the fence behind her.

She kept her eyes on him, forcing herself to breath. Trapped between the fence and Monroe. He was not talking, he was not moving, his face on edge, his breathing harsh, the blue in his eyes so incredibly dark, his whole face different then she had ever seen.

She had seen him from a distance. Arrogance walking in, his boots hitting the floor in a collected rhythm, his whole uniformed body oozing a calmness with deadly calm and contained danger when she had met him for the first time in Philly. Sebastian Monroe. He had stood before her, a chilling smile, a soothing voice, standing next to Strausser. She had felt the intensity of his eyes on her.

In the pool he had been standing, leaning, again with that calm but deadly contained energy. Legs a bit wide, ropes around him too, leaning into the side of the empty pool. He had played the wounded Monroe part, oozing into her, asking her where Miles and her mom were. It made her blood boil even more, but instead she gave him her best you barely exist face.

But then, he had brought her back to a night, to a place so far away from this night. Yet, with his presence he brought her back there. The tower. The bombs. Miles' countdown. Dread and panic and telling herself her mom and Aaron would stop this all before it would be too late. Her heart that was panicking too, its heartbeat out of control. They wouldn't. Flynn. The screens.

And she knew Sebastian Monroe was capable of anything, of impossible damage and madness and death and manipulation.

But she had watched him struggle, as he asked her about that night in the tower. Asking her she was there. And for a couple of seconds, even how much she tried to keep control facing him, she had let that night back in. That night she had been trying to leave behind because she was wondering how she ever could explain what happened there. The people that had been there, Miles, her mom, Aaron, they never talked about it anymore. Aaron was gentle, sweet but quiet. Miles drank his misery away and her mom. Her mom just disappeared. Leaving her alone to deal with that night. Pressing on her, taking her down. The days on the road back to Willoughby had made things abstract, focussing on surviving, Miles and her leading their group, through endless days of rain, hunting, taking first watch, second watch, any watch.

She had felt the grey, the grey memories of something she had tried to push away, come back, when she stood there against that wall, tied up, and she felt her face drop. She felt the shift in him, watched how he struggled with his next breath.

And for one second, she forgot how he was, she forgot who she was, and she saw her own torment in his eyes, in his body, in his voice.

She had been tied up, so was he, but they had been inflicting wound after wound, hit after hit.

Kid, you might to try to run away from your mom, but you are a hell of a lot like her.

His final blow to her stomach. The first realisation at exactly how good he was at reading people.

And now he was so close, she could take in his spicy sweat. She could see the drops of sweat, tracing from his strong broad neck, to his collar bone, over the tanned skin of his chest that was visible above the v line neck of his shirt. The faint light of the moon touching his skin, making his eyes dark.

She tried to move her leg, give her space she needed to make another move, make another hit, another punch, feeding her desire, her need, her want to inflict as much pain as she could.

Bass felt how she tried again, deadly fire blazing from her blue eyes. Fuck, she was strong, and stubborn and so fucking hot.

Back in the pool, he had asked her, that one fucking question that had been haunting him for months now. He had not been able to fucking hide how much he needed to know, his voice intense, his breathing hurting with every breath he took.

Randal pushed the button, didn't he.

She had answered. One small fucking nod. But more, her eyes, her fucking blue bright eyes, piercing at him from out of the filth from the concrete of the walls of that pool, were filled with pain, but at the same time Charlie faded for a moment, and they both were there again. There were only a handful of people who really knew what the fuck happened there, and Charlie Matheson was one of them. He had been drowning himself in shame, guilt, loathing, booze, whores and that one fucking flyer about the bombs in Philly, but here she was, one person who had been there. One person that connected him to that fucking night. One person that was his connection to Miles.

He might as well pushed the button himself.

He had not been able to look at her from that point, getting lost in his old demons and shadows again.

And then, the energy had shifted. She had gotten cold, her eyes going sharp and distant, her voice changing, throwing things his face he would have killed for. Snapped fucking necks for. He mentioned Miles, again. And this time, he saw the reaction in her face, in her body. It lasted only a second, but the one man that was connecting them, brought a reaction out of her, even if she was trying to hide it.

And then, she had looked at him, right at him. Her mouth moving, fucking pale pink lips.

You, you don't get to tell anybody anything. You're nothing.

He had stood there, in shock, in awe, cold rage seeping through his veins when Charlie stood there, leaning against that wall. He had trouble swallowing all of a sudden.

It was the moment he realised he did not only want to kill her, but he also want to fuck her.

And now, he had her, so fucking close.

Their breathing colliding into one.

Her lips parted.

Her body wrapped against his, while he added enough pressure to keep her in place. His hands still against hers, pressing the back of her hands in the fence behind her.

Fuck, he was hard. He could feel his cock, trapped between the both of them, against her. He felt his cock twitch, and he knew she felt it too.

His eyes met hers.

He was towering over her, his weight pressing her into the fence and into one place. His body prevented her from moving, but his eyes, they kept her in one place.

And then, Charlie felt how her body betrayed her. She felt him, hard, so hard. His eyes taking her all. She was not even sure if she wanted to, but her body, god, her body, her hips moved towards him, towards his hardness, her core pulsing with the mixture of hate, and loathing, and sweat, and fight.

And need.

And then, it was just a damn second, and Bass doubted if she meant to, but her thighs moved against him, adding pressure to his cock.

Her breathing got heavier again.

He let her hands go, but he never let go of her eyes.

She did not move.

Her lips were within his reach, and his heart was pounding in his chest. Adrenaline and lust battling inside of him.

Charlie did not know when the urge to kill him, woke up this urge to have him. It was a fine line, and she knew they were going to cross it. Her whole body was screaming for him.

She moved her mouth towards him, craving to know how he would taste. She felt how Monroe gave her more space, so she could make a decision. She moved even closer. His mouth demanded hers.

They crashed into each other, as Monroe crashed her into the fence.

She tasted blood, on his lips. She tasted sweat. Their tongues struggled, moved around each other as Bass lost all fucking control and he pressed his cock into her.

Their kiss was firm and wild and a fight all in its own world.

He tasted her, felt her warm mouth.

He turned her around, needing her to know he was still in control.

Charlie let him.

His grip was firm, but at the same time loose, and she felt how she crashed into his chest with her back.

Her ass was against his cock now, the curve of her body before him, one of his hands moved around her and over to her neck, keeping her in place with just the light touch of his fingers, the skin of his fingers digging into her skin.

The other hand moved to her back, a long line with his fingers from her neck to her ass.

Charlie felt his touch, and her body woke up. The adrenaline inside of her was mixing with want and exposed lust. His lips brushed her neck, and she felt his lips there, sucking lightly, biting her skin, a mixture of slow pain and ecstasy.

His fingers moved to the button of her pants, and he waited. Waited until she slowly let her weight fall against his chest, her hands digging into the fence in front of him.

Charlie fought back a moan, when his fingers moved in a easy way, getting the access he was looking for.

A low primal growl resounded in her ear, buzzing through her.

The moment he felt her wet curls, her swollen drenched skin, he felt his cock become even harder with one shot through it. He rubbed her clit, explored the wet skin, feeling how ready she already was. The tips of his fingers brushed her entrance and slipped inside with the top of his fingers.

Charlie curled her fingers into the metal pattern of the fence before her, as she felt how Monroe added more pressure, moving her body against his with his hand around her clit and curls. He cupped her with his large calloused hand, her slippery skin against his, and he almost lifted her off the ground. She gave up on holding back, and the first deep moan escaped her lips, air escaping from her lunges.

She had to move one hand from the fence to cup his hand, as she felt his strong large hand through the fabric of her own jeans.

Bass let out a deep grunt, feeling her against his body, her slender frame, her weighing fucking nothing, so he could play with their distance, with their space. Her warm hand was burning through her pants, as it found his, teasing her clit, unable to think about anything than pushing himself against her, inside of her.

Fuck, he needed to have her, Fuck her.

He opened his zipper and brought out his cock.

Charlie felt his movements, and the sound of the zipper made a new wave of wetness appear.

His movements became more urgent as he left her warmth, and he had to fuck her, but he also had to see her.

He moved her around in one rough and easy turn.

Her eyes, they were the same mocking challenging eyes from the pool, half closed, but there was desire in there. The fact that she needed this as much as he needed her now, broke something lose in him. Charlie turned his way completely and he did not wait anymore.

With his eyes still piercing in hers, he moved her pants out of the way. He crashed her back into the fence and entered her in one deep trust, with one low deep grunt when he felt how fucking tight she was. How warm. How wet. How she wrapped herself around his fucking cock.

Another moan from her as he drove back into her.

They did not kiss, they only challenged each other with their eyes.

It was fast. And rough. And raw. The metal sounds of the fence, the sounds coming from them.

Charlie felt his hand under her ass, as the force of every thrust filled her completely with his wide long cock. Her body held up by him, by the strength of his one arm, as the other hand found a place just over and under her left breast, his fingers digging in with every time he buried himself inside of her.

She watched Monroe, as she realised Sebastian Monroe was fucking her, or fighting her, or she was fighting him, fucking him.

She got lost in his eyes, in how hard he felt, his cock inside of her, his body in front of her, his fingers in her ass, in her skin, as she slammed her body over his cock one more time, her orgasm coming up out of nowhere, leaving her without control, relying on him holding her through it.

He could kill her right then and there, because she only could feel her orgasm, as her body did not even feel real.

Bass watched her face, watched her stubbornness as she fought to keep her eyes open. He could feel the change in her body, her breathing, her eyes, her face. And then, she fucking came all over his cock, her mouth open, a fucking raw moan filling the forest around them. He felt how she gave in for a moment to his touch, as he held her.

He dug in deeper, her skin smooth under his touch as he felt how he would fucking come within seconds too. He used his thigh to keep her in place, his hand still around her smooth firm breast, when he pulled out of her and pumped himself until he came between her legs, his cum dripping on the floor between them as he growled and cursed at the same time, slamming his hand into the fence next to her.

And then, it was over, the raw lust still pumping between them, but it was not everything that was there anymore.

Smooth curved skin was covered up again, his cock remembering her when it moved inside and against the fabric of his pants again.

They locked eyes one more time, both of them still out of breath with what just happened, out of breath with each other.

And then, he took a step backwards, and then another. And then he turned away from her, leaving her there, in that dark night, under those trees.

Charlie stood there, her core still pulsating with him, as she watched how Monroe started to run, again. She watched his shirt, moving with his shoulders.

Charlie was not far behind him. he knew. She would follow him. She would be there. He took the reins in his hands, as he used the abandoned wagon as his escape.

When Charlie had made her way back to the small path, the wagon was almost out of sight. She could see a hint of him, in front of the wagon. She could still smell him on her skin. Her clit pulsating with his raw strength and energy.

Monroe.

Charlie. As Bass urged the horses forward, he could still feel her tight warmth. Fuck. She would follow him. She would be there.

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 _ **We saw that fence in that episode, where Charlie was all bad ass. And for the one shot for this episode, I decided to finally have some fun with it. There was all this raw energy around that fence, in those scenes, I could not resist...Hope you enjoyed! Until the next one shot chapter? I think I will update the chapters I have already updated on AO3 today. And enjoy some new stories out there. Meet you there or else, here! Thanks for reading and the showed support. Love from Love**_


	3. One shot three -Play under the trees

**_Hey you, chapter three, one shot three. Hope you enjoy!_**

 ** _Enjoy your day, Love_**

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 ** _O_** _ne shot three_

 _Play under the trees_

Charlie is on the road, boots covered in sand, as she tracks down the man she spent hours strapped in a pool with, the shot with rocksalt from the bountyhunters still there on her right shoulder. Bass escaped, just like Charlotte told that loser bountyhunter. After spending hours with her, he knows she is close. He can hear her, but most of all, he can feel her. Charlotte.

'Keep your eyes at sea level. Or I will poke them out.'

'Yes ma'm, I...'

Bass narrowed his eyes, waiting at the side of the road, knowing she would come to him. He had meant for her to find him this time. Deciding the asshole bounty hunter could finish that line another time, never would be a good time as far as he was concerned, and that he really did not like asshole bounty hunters eyes on Charlie ,he decided for him to show himself.

He was out of his hiding place in no time, hit the bounty hunter of his damn feet and aimed the weapon he held in his hand at her. Charlie. She had turned around in a flash, and her big eyes were now completely on him, with maybe a flash of anticipation and fear in them, as he stood before her.

'I don't want to hurt you,' he flexed his finger around the trigger.

She stood there, looking at the man before her.

'Trust me,' he paused after those words, unintentionally giving them more meaning, 'you want to see this. Charlotte.' He bumped her shoulder with his on his way to the wagon.

A wave of his scent hit her, when he was so close. There was a whole road, but Monroe just had let her know he was there. Smug walked over to the wagon.

He showed her the flyers he found. With a warrant . With his name.

'Yeah, so?' She almost shrugged.

Pissing him of, contained rage pumping through him as he let some air escape from his lips at the tone she was using, like he was nothing. He used to be damn president but it meant nothing to her./p

Charlie watched him react, knowing he was hoping he would get a reaction out of her at showing her the flyer with his name. So she did not give him one, because frankly she could not care less.

Of course that changed when he moved through the flyers with irritation, and found the one with another name. There was a reason he saved this one for last. He showed it to her.

Her moms name. She grabbed it out of his hands. 'What do they want with my mom?'

They woke up the bounty hunter to ask him just that. Not that he would give them much information. Charlie only pissed him of even more by placing her hand around the end of his gun to stop him from shooting the guy on the spot. And what pissed him of even more, that he did not pull the trigger. He needed her to get to Miles, and if that meant killing the SOB a little bit later, or for now, shoving him straight in the face, so be it.

'So what now?' Charlie asked him, irritated she had to spent even minutes with him. A day in that pool with present company had been enough.

Bass moved back to her, as he stood a little back fidgeting with his gun. He held out his hand, asking back the flyers Charlie got in her hands, showing her the symbol that had been on Flynn's ring as well. Hoping the hell he would convince her of how serious he was.

She was convinced. However, fucking hell, she was not convinced about the fact that he would go with her.

' I know you will go and warn your family. And I'm guessing where your mom is, Miles is.' He could not miss the opportunity to mess around with this with her, a little payback for how she stood before him seconds ago.

Charlie heard the almost arrogant light tone in his voice, almost delighted to mess around with that fact, playing with her, messing with her.

Bingo, he fucking watched it in her eyes.

Charlie heard the jab towards Miles and her mom, but she was not giving him the satisfaction of her Reaction..

'And I am coming with you.' His tone was low.

'Excuse me?' She said, not believing her ears.

Bass watched her press her very fucking smooth lips together as her eyes narrowed and she moved into his personal space.

'You're delusional.' She moved her lips, as he was still watching her, but he could see something else firing in them as well. She was fucking close enough to let her tits in that tight tank of hers move into his chest.

'Is that so,' his voice lower than low, as he towered above her.

Charlie knew he was playing her, messing with her. She knew his reputation. But if this asshole thought he could play her, mess with her, than Sebastian Monroe was really delusional. If he wanted to do this, she was here for the game.

He was close enough for her to take in. His face that seemed to be able to change with the changing light under the trees. His eyes blue, so intense blue and locked on her. The drying blood on his lip. The scruff of a starting beard. The shining sweat on his skin. The scent of his strong sweat that her brain registered. The pulse of his tall, broad, male presence.

She was close. Closer than she had ever been. Fuck, she did not move. She kept firing into him with those intense blue eyes of her. He wanted to let his eyes wonder over her frame, her tits in that tank just within reach but he did not let her eyes out his sight.

The tan of her skin only made her lips stand out even fucking more. Her hair , blonde long waves falling over her shoulders and back. He sensed her, her sweet adrenaline ready to fight him with anything.

His mind went into fucking stupid mode, as he was just too curious how she would taste and how she would react to something unexpected. And because, his cock had took all those hours he had to spent with her in that pool, watching as she woke up, a mixture of tan and sweat, as fucking foreplay.

That fucking stupid brain mode of his included her mouth against his.

Their faces, their mouths had been inches away as Charlie scented his breath. And then, the smug asshole put her mouth on his. It was deliberate, it was with aim, it was with a slow burn that she never experienced before.

She knew he was playing with her, messing with her, but she would not back down. So when he stopped kissing her, she crashed into him, almost fighting him again, like she had done with that metal pipe near that fence a couple of nights ago. But this time, her weapon of choice were her lips.

She surprised the hell out of him, when salty sweet lips met his, and evoked a fast grin from him.

Fucking hell, she was not going to back out of this. It was unplanned, he had expected to get a reaction out of her, any reaction out of her for that matter, but this girl, woman, fighter, did not walk away from this. And since he was no fucking saint, hell, he never was, he added more pressure, and slowly moved his lips over hers, in a demanding way. She answered that gesture with . Pushing him away, then crashing onto him again.

Charlie tasted the copper of his blood, mixed with his tongue that now roamed freely towards her.

They stood there, under the soft wave of the trees, near a creek, on a silent road.

Charlie registered his movements were firm and strong at the same time, almost rough, without being rough. His hand on the side of her neck, her heartbeat pulsing under his touch, his fingers close, maybe too close to her throat as he would not let her go.

Her hands moved under his shirt, feeling strong broad arms under it. Bass grabbed her damn fine ass, the curves soft and firm at the same time as he needed her to feel how fucking serious he was when his dick pressed into her belly. Charlie felt his cock, hard, so damn hard, the large bulge pressing almost painfully into her stomach.

She knew there was no way back now, and her body wouldn't take it anyway, even if it was there. She knew it. He knew it. They would go all in. Neither of them wanting, going to stop this. Her world moved in slow motion when his fingers finally moved into her panties, touching her, playing with her with heated strokes as he watched her, daring her to ask him to stop, if this was not something she wanted. She never asked him to stop.

A wild storm of touching and kissing and grunts and curses broke free. Her tank was somewhere shoved up towards her neck as he moved her to the open wagon and placed her with her back against the bottom of it.

He took himself in hand as he watched her, and every damn frustration, irritation, rage, attraction and lust for her, he had build up for her in those hours strapped with her against the wall of that pool broke free.

He placed his hands on either side of her, her eyes challenging him, as he towered over her, his tall body hovering over her smaller one. And then, with his lips, his scruff, the blood still on his face from previous wounds and fights, he pushed inside of her, without breaking eye contact.

She met him with the rolling of her hips, as she did not lose eye contact either. Their breathing getting heavier on that silent road. Sweat appeared on his chest, between her breasts as he pushed inside of her, and she rolled her hips towards him.

That was until he needed to push inside of her more, with more urgency and force. He picked her up from the back of the wagon, turned her around, placed her on her feet and between his legs, her face facing the side of the wagon now.

He pushed into her again.

'Fuck. Yeah. He grunted, as he felt the god damn good feel of her wrapping around his cock again.

Bass had one hand on her slender waste, his other hand with the palm , holding onto the side of the wagon to balance himself, his cock inside of her as he kept on thrusting inside of her.

One long thrust.

Another thrust, a second one. Well placed. Deep again. Reaching that spot. More wet warmth around his cock. She moaned again as she threw back her head, her long hair moving in the sun and the air.

She moved one arm back, her fingers digging into the flesh of his thigh.

They found a rhythm, both challenging the other to move faster. Her hand moved to her left breast as she cupped herself, toying with the resilience of her skin.

Bass watched her, touching herself, as every time he slammed into her, her tits moved fucking good, her hand absorbing his thrusts now she touched herself. Fucking hell.

The growl that escaped from his throat as she had moved her hand over the smooth curve of her breast, made her grin. That was until his voice was close to her ear

'You are going to come for me Charlotte?' He pushed his cock deeper inside of her, a deep fast thrust.

she did not answer, as he watched how she fought back another moan. He let out a cruel breath of air, as he did not say anything but added more pressure, and his cock completely filled her, stretched her. His jaws were locked in lust. The unexpected hard way he moved into her, hit the right spot and was the final push she needed to shatter all around him as she came with a loud low primal scream, that got trapped between her and Monroe and the wagon.

Her head crashed into his shoulder as Bass felt how hard she came. It did not take long for his cock to follow her, emptying himself between her legs, his warm seed in heavy pulses hitting the ground between their boots.

She was out of breath, he was out of breath. Charlie felt his head close to her neck, as his fingers still touched the skin of her hips. They froze in time like that, until the road became the road again, and reality became reality.

She looked at him again, as he was busy pulling his shirt back on, and she let her fingers glide over her hunting knife, putting it back in place. She grabbed her jacket, moved it over her knife, so it swung easily with her hips as she moved away with determination.

She walked past him.

He looked at her with challenge.

'I am going to find and warn my family. Alone. So if you want to stop me, shoot me.' She almost hissed that last word, knowing damn well she was referring to that fucked up moment with Strausser.

He watched her, she watched him. He could smell her, her, on him, that fucking amazing body of hers back into well fitted jeans and a torture tank.

And just like that, Charlie Matheson turned around. Moved that fucking hips of her, away from him.

Bass growled something inside. Fidgeted with his gun, considering his options. This girl, woman, fighter, she knew how to stand on her own. She was smart. Hot. Strong. He grabbed his shit. He would just have to find a way to outsmart her. He used to be a Marine. Challenge accepted.

Charlie kept on going. Leaving the place behind where she just met Sebastian Monroe. In every way.

Another day on the road, her boots hitting the sand, her shoulders straight, her chin up, but with his touch still humming between her legs.

* * *

Note: Thanks for reading everyone. One shot four will be up soon. Five too. And then chapter six, the new one for this week!


	4. One shot four -Around a fire

Thank you all for reading, today will be a little bit more vulnerable between Charlie and Bass. I think we all have talked about it at some point, what could have happened? What made her change her mind, and save his life? This was a little interpretation, my interpreation. Love from Love

 _After she tried to kill him, after she found him in Vegas, after she crashed in the pool in front of his feet, after he saved her life, Charlie and Bass have been on the road now for weeks, after he saved her life and they made a bound of going back together. Weeks with growing understanding, each other, just the two of them on the road._

One shot four

Around a fire

One more night. The town she let behind and everything in it almost enough to touch with the tip of her fingers. The burden of what happened not.

Two logs, a slow fire burning in between them. Monroe sitting on her left. Charlie was staring into the fire as Monroe, elbows easily resting on his knees of his tall legs, was staring at her. She could feel his eyes, as he sat across from her. His left hand close to his right, fidgeting, the rest of his body at ease. The longe curve of his back close to the fire.

She had walked, away from what she almost could not bear anymore. Her mother, Miles, the Tower, the day her father died and it all changed. Miles Matheson, her uncle. Miles Matheson, the general, as she found out on the way to Philly. That reveal brought values to its knees, as she realised it had been her uncle who had been in Philly, building that one thing that ruled her life for so long. It was an uneasy truth, but he had been family, and their ties had been strong.

Her mom. The woman she knew from home, who drove her to ballet lessons. The woman she met again after years of thinking she was dead. Giving her the task, of never ever letting go of her little brother's hand.

She did.

In a world where things were not as easily black and white as she once painted it.

But when she had walked to Vegas, that old, almost one dimensional image had come back. Until she had not killed him. Failed again. And weeks with him, after he saved her life, crumbled down that one dimensional image again.

He had been asking her about that fall out, she knew he knew he hit the right track. He had let it go, until he hadn't.

It was moving towards midnight, food was waiting for her above the fire. She had gone hunting, one more time, alone with her thoughts. Coming back to his eyes. She had leaned into a tree, resting with her side against the bark, her back towards him. Not far from the fire. From him.

Right before dinner, as she had stood there, staring into the night and the last light of the day, Monroe had asked her again, what happened between her and her mom.

Bass had to know, not only because he was trying to figure out what was waiting there for him, but also a part of him went out for her.

She had snapped, and she had let something out, she was not ready to share.

'I could not do it anymore, after the tower. Watching her go mute, move through day after day in that rain when we headed back to Willoughby. I know she blames me, for letting go, for not doing what she asked me to do, take care of Danny. I failed. Him, failed her.' She wanted to bite the words at him as a accusation, but she failed, letting her own colour come through.

Something in him, from him, made it easy to talk. It was this broody silence, his eyes on her, time for her, his blue eyes exploring, waiting. Until she remembered who she had been talking too.

Bass shook his head, imagining Charlie with Rachel.. He had mentioned a fall out, knowing somehow it had to be between the both of them, not with her and Miles. Feeling Charlie's pain, wanting, needing to do something about it, like the protecting rage he felt for her in that bar. He could not fucking help himself.

'Charlie, this is not your fault.' His, it was his. Miles' fault when he had agreed to put that warrant out for Ben. 'We screwed things up, when both Miles and I had to be there to protect all of you.'

Charlie looked at him for a while. There it was again, his eyes heavy with guilt. Admitting to what he did, again.

It was, it was her fault. The dark voice inside of her. Guilt.

Charlie was not used to Monroe being this open. His words a slow timbre with raw low guilt. He was so much like Miles, but also so much unlike Miles. He was easier opening up, showing her more than he probably wanted.

He could see her tighten up, he could see it in her shoulders.

She could not afford the conversation take this direction.

'Imagine how happy she will be, after she finds out who I brought back with me.' Her words were layered with a biting tone, her own frustration lashing out at him.

He looked at her, as she looked at him with fire in her eyes. He nodded. He knew, he knew how much he was asking of her. But he had no choice. He had to. He wanted to.

After that, there was more silence. Dinner, as she moved back from where she stood, to the place at the fire she was sitting now.

Bass watched her, his eyes wandering to the line where the tanktop met the rounding of her breasts. Hips he had asked himself how they would feel under his touch. Legs he had fantasied about, close to his shoulders and neck, as she lay open before him.

The night was dark around them between the trees. Sunrise was miles away. Bass was surprised she opened up, although he could see at her face she did not mean for this to happen. He fucked up, Miles fucked up. God, he swore he knew that. They had started something to bring back some humanity in a world forsaken of it.

Behind the mask you are cold and empty and a killer.

His eyes, the exception. They were haunting her, bringing her things she did not want to know about him.

Behind the mask you are cold and empty and a killer.

God he swore, she was so much like Rachel there. Not the Rachel he remembered, the girl Ben brought home to Jasper one summer, but the woman she became.

But then, they had gotten on the road. And she was though, the first days still with drugs in her system, but she never ever showed that to him. He had wanted to help, even though she never ever fucking believed it, drove him away with just her eyes as he had tried to reach out for her when she stumbled on more than occasion. Almost lost her balance getting up the wagon. She knew how to carry herself through the terrain. She could hunt, and as long she was not hunting his ass, he was fine with that. She could track, she could stand on her own feet. He had dated, in a world far away and gone now, girls her age, and even older, who could barely get through one fucking night without checking their mascara three fucking times. Not her.

She proved him wrong about what he said against her about Rachel.

Bass looked at her, from across the fire. The leather jacket, her tank, her smooth flat stomach, strong jaws, fire light skin above her tank, strong jaw lines.

One more night. His brother so damn close.

The last time they had met it had ended in fists in their faces, the fact that Miles was so fucking close but further away than ever. Out there, only miles away. Miles. The man who slapped him on the back when he finally dared to kiss Crissy from fourth grade. The man who had been there at their graduation, the man he had followed into the Marines, the man he had dragged away from danger, the man he once would give his life for. Those US guys, they were going to be trouble. He had to fight them, fight for revenge for those bombs. But fuck, he needed Miles. He was family and since Charlie had been there outside Vegas, she had shaken that part of him awake. So much like him, and family once too. Making him remember it was there, only asleep under layers of guilt and shame.

'It was not always like this. We were friends once.'

His rough broken raspy voice came through the air.

He had now fucking clue why he bothered to say that to her. He expected her to react like she had when she had when she woke up from the drugs those basterds had given her. Razor sharp even when dulled with drugs.

'I know. Miles told me.' Charlie said, looking at the fire.

Monroe looked at her, with so much in his eyes that it was a lot to take in. It broke through her, swirling something deep inside.

He looked so broken and the blue in his eyes fragile again, so lost. It was how he looked, that was inside of her. She was not the only one wandering when she found him there in Vegas.

It was like Miles closed time between them, closed that gap between so much unresolved pull.

Later, much later, she would see how automatically he would carry himself like a sponge, soaking it up, the shame, the blame, the guilt.

Looking at him now, she only saw a glimpse of that that broke through, like a desperate beam of the sun through a smudged window. It was that light, that broke through. Like a sunbeam through a keyhole, a dark room with light out there, coming through. It was that glimpse, that would make her ask her mother something much later, something she never ever thought possible. She would realise it, much, much later.

For now, that light ignited something between them.

Bass looked at her, seeing in her eyes something that lay under the rage and fury she came to him. Moments lay behind them, they had worked together so fucking well, fighting, bullshitting their way through something, it was like an unexpected bond he only shared with one man.

The brother he was now so close too.

They had watched each other like this before. Her eyes so damn close. Her sweet skin, when she was getting into other pants after she washed herself in the river, her hair dripping wet. As he moved into another shirt, as his old was soaked in sweat.

He had watched her move with grace, and if he had been fucking honest, she had been there, many moment where it had been him and his right hand.

Bass watched her, his boots on the ground, hers too, her underarms and wrists on her knees as well.

Loneliness. He could sense it in her, in the way it lay in him too.

His arm easily crossed the space between him and her as he slowly let his fingers glide under her hair, just above her neck, the palm of his hand touching the smooth line of her neck. Her skin was warm. Charlie felt his fingers at the base of her neck. His eyes intense.

Maybe this was stupid. Or maybe, it was what they both needed.

She felt the brush of his kiss on her lips for the very first time. As she felt and scented his scent and touch, as his lips first brushed the corner of her mouth and he moved his nose against hers.

Fuck, Bass could not believe she was still there, her mouth within reach, as he decided he would go all in. It was what he did, who he was.

Charlie did too.

Kissing him, him kissing her as a low growl came from his throat, a moan from hers. A hand on his left corner of his chest. Bass on one knee before her, his boots in the ground under him.

Charlie felt how incredibly slow he took this. And with one easy movement, resting on of his hands, he pivoted them both, his back against the rough tree that stood close and behind them. Bass moved them both further against the tree, as she kissed him with fire, His arms closed around them, gentle, slow, locking her without giving her the idea there was no way out. Her ass on his lap.

He needed this.

She needed it to.

He moved his knees, his boots still on the ground. Charlie felt his strong wide upper legs behind her, as she moved into the space between his knees and chest. His hand now on the back of her head, holding her there as he moved his lips, moving hers with him.

Right now, the why was there, but none of them were ready to look at that.

He stopped, she watched something in his eyes, something vulnerable, sad. She had straddled him, as he looked so lost there.

'We can stop this if you want,' his voice slow and smooth.

He had the look in his eyes of somehow who was expecting another slap in the face.

She just nodded no.

Reaching out for him.

He looked at her, like he needed to take her all in. Charlie, who let her fingers roam through his beard. Through his moustache. The hairs itching against her skin.

God, fuck, it had been ages since he had been touched like this.

Before her tank was away ,His fingers went to the hem of her tank, the fabric between his fingers as his tumbs feltt the first bits of her skin.

Charlie reached behind her, opening her bra for him. Crossing her arms, moving the straps of her black modest bra over her shoulders, as he watched her, and he was like a burning intense fire, that was burning now behind him. His firm lips pressed together, his tanned skin smooth in the light of the fire.

Charlie placed her hands above the tree, just above his head. She stretched out like a cat before him.

'Touch me,' she whispered hoarsely.

The outlines of her breasts before him, Bass touched with rough skin and licked the side of her breasts, his warmth causing her to shiver.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, her palms on the skin over his collarbones. He felt solid. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt. She moved them to his upper arms, gliding under it. It was one of the most erotic moments in her life to make him loose his shirt, as she felt him move under her, as he moved his arms above his head. She could see the hairs on his arms, on his chest, the lines of his chest under his nipples, formed by hard training. Muscles that had seen life, formed by it. When he moved his shirt over his head, he tilted his groin automatically.

Making her whimper something as Bass felt and saw the exact moment his dick touched her.

Her reaction to his hard throbbing cock made him twitch even harder for her.

He moved her closer, this time for a more forceful kiss, as Charlie felt at the same time how his hands were strong points on her back, under her hair that tickled her bare skin. Her nipples hard.

Bass moved her, taking her in one arm, so she was sideways in his arms now, one hand easily going to her pants as she kicked out her own boots. Bass watched the soft pink of her nipples as he looked back at her, his hands feeling soft curls between his pants were gone, when she could only concentrate on the fact that Monroe was touching soft curls, warm, wet skin under it. She felt almost self-conscious, no man had ever looked at her the way he had.

He moved her back, kissing, biting at her collarbone, as she moved her hand over the place between his nipples, to his stomach and to his button. The back of her hand touching his cock, a low huff of air escaping his lips.

He helped her as she moved the fabric over his wide thighs, as she lifted herself up on her knees. He kicked out his pants, her helping him with his boots.

Bass shifted her, as Charlie felt his muscled under arm move against her thigh and in between her legs. She had to bite her lip not to grind down on it.

When Bass felt her wet lips, swollen and warm, against his fingers, she closed her eyes.

'All ready for me,' he growled, groaned, mixing with desire, need.

'Fuck...there..' it was a breathless whisper as she moved her arms around his neck.

He felt her hands going for his dick, the first touch of her hitting his skin a shock through his system, as precum moved over the tip of his dick in response to her touch.

'Holy hell, Charlie,' he groaned from the back of his throat, as she took him completely in his hand letting his hard shaft move through and in the palm of her hand.

He was tall. He was everywhere. Around her. His scent of the forest, sweat, whiskey and his hard cock and her sweet pussy, something deeper all around her as his fingers drove into her hair, giving her goosebumps.

'Come for me, Charlie.' Her name rolling of his lips so easy, needing, wanting to see how she would come, just for him. Only for him. Share that part of her with him.

Maybe it was hearing her own name coming from his lips. Maybe it was his fingers that stretched out endlessly inside of her. But she came for him as his arms caught her and he felt her fingers gripping his cock. A slow rhythm of fingers stroking her hair guiding her through.

She was small, but strong, as she moved like subtlety in his arms, sitting on his damn lap and all he wanted was push inside of her.

'Want..this..' her voice a whisper.

'Then I will give it to you Charlie...' Bass tucked some hair out of her face. His voice as low as he stood before her for the first time, with those flyers in his hands. It made her even more wet.

He moved his dick so the tip was feeling her warmth between those lips as Charlie moved fingers through his beard. She met him. When he was filling her, her hands were around his cheeks, his beard between her skin and his jaws. With one arm around her waist he moved her, as she felt his strength around her. She tilted her head, giving him access she could feel he needed. Wanted. Just like her.

He cursed something at the feel how wet and tight she was. She moaned something, at the feel of how he was almost splitting her in two at this angle, his dick hard and so very inside of her.

He was taking his time, as she was surprised by how slow and gentle this rough and intense man was. In the middle of another movement, moving herself up his cock, she kissed him somewhere on the corner of his lips, a growl escaping from his throat.

As they slowed down, their eyes locked. She watched the change in his eyes, as she licked her bottom lip.

It was he was waiting, stalking her like prey, before that next blow in a fight.

They knew they would have to get on that damn road again, but neither of them wanted to right now. It hit them both at the same time, and neither of them wanted to feel it.

So he moved her, his hands under her arms, over her shoulders, a gentle pulling her close, as he moved her onto the ground behind them.

In one push, she felt Monroe move over her, covering her body completely with his, his muscles like a raw blanket over her. He was pushing her into the ground, as nothing else mattered for now, and hard, and she moved her hands over his muscles, as he nipped at her neck, before he took her again, this time rough, and filled with an explosion of everything from the past weeks.

Maybe, just maybe, she understood. Him. She had given him a chance, she had given him purpose. Never afraid to be in his face. And for that, he needed her to feel under him. She fucked like she fought, focussed, fire. Hips, and warmth. Bass groaned something in his throat, as he dug deep inside of her, electing a moan deep from within him, as he thought he heard his name, Bass, a deep whisper, but he was not sure.

Maybe, just maybe, he was a piece that was locked inside of her. She fought and fought it, until she could not fight anymore and lost control, under him, his hands on her shoulders, his arms holding her in one place. And for once, she let go of that control, let somebody else keep her in one place, hold her, right there with Monroe, as her mind whispered Bass, or maybe she did, when she felt the waves in her stomach constricting, as he felt harder inside of her. She came with a scream, strangled, because he caught her with his warm breath and lips.

He needed to not be outside of her, and it took him everything he had. To feel the cold air around his dick, as he pulled out, his dick touched the inside of her tight and he shot his warm seed home.

When his chest was above her, and she could feel his sticky warm cum on her lower belly, she moved to him, kissing his chest, taking in salty sweat as his forehead touched hers, drips of sweat from him on her face.

Bass felt the almost too intimate gesture, of her lips and tongue on the skin of his chest. Allowing himself to take her in, breathe her in.

When sunrise came, she stood there again, against the same tree as she did last night. The sun hitting her hair. She felt him close. His voice close, the low timbre hitting her.

'We have to go.'

She looked away from him, that almost sad colour blue in her face again. But then, she looked at him. And he met the eyes of someone he was in this together.

Blue meeting blue.

'Yeah, we do.'

Miles, within reach. Another fight ahead.

She would go back to her past, here in the present. He would have to go back to the past, here in the present.

Their destination within reach as they walked to the wagon together. Bass busy with the horses, she adjusting her weapon belt, feeling the spot again where he came. She locked eyes with him.

The future waiting for them, together as Charlie sat down on the wagon next to him, both not talking, as her hair moved in the wind and Bass urging the horses to keep on moving.

Later that day, in less than twenty four hours, she would find out she would be able to stand up for him, standing strongely behind the fact she brought Monroe back. In front of her mom. Next to Miles.

They were almost there.


	5. One shot five

_This is the one shot that I needed to crosspost, the next one is the new one. Lovely to see you here. Enjoy your reading!_

When Charlie spent weeks on the road with him, with Monroe, she had no choice but to face the fact he was there. Live with him, get through the days with him on her way back to her mom and Miles. Weeks that gave her more insight about this man. Maybe more than she ever wanted. She fought with him on the road, she learned from him, got stronger, got faster. Found some weird bound with him in silence.

When Bass spent weeks on the road with her, with Charlotte, Charlie, he has no choice, maybe gives her no choice but to be there with her, when she goes back to her mom and Miles. Weeks that made him see, she is more than a piece of Miles, more than the girl who can get him what he wants. Which is revenge. And to get back to Miles. He kept her out, but he lost. Charlie Matheson has gotten in.

one shot five

 _All the way and back here again,_

When her uncle stormed at Monroe next to the creek under that old out of work viaduct that used to service vehicles that no longer work, she followed him, light on her feet.

To her own surprise she had stood next to Monroe, facing her uncle. But beside him.

Making sure he would not kill Miles, but also making sure Miles would not do the same.

When her mother was ready to pull the trigger on Monroe not much later when they met again in the old mill of Willougby, she had walked into the room. Aaron on the other side of her as a familiar landmark on her map of family and comfort. Her mother wasn't.

To her own surprise, she was standing side by side next to Miles, before Monroe, defending him. Facing with her mom. But still defending him. Monroe had followed her with his eyes, as she was sure that he was sure she would walk up to her mom and have a little let's kill him anyway party.

And now they were here in the old mill just outside the centre of town. She was here. And nothing had changed. She felt the bitter burden all around her. The speech Miles gave her, about going easy on her mom. When Charlie needed, her mom to be there for her. For once. For one time. Not her mom keeping monologues of her mom felt, how sorry she was. Charlie had no idea what that looked like, but she knew, it had not been there, all those months after the Tower.

It was good to see Miles, so very good to feel the pressure of his arms, take in Miles, feel his hand on her head, like he did so rarely, but when he did, it was like home. She understood. That hand, what it symbolised, it was so much, it was too dangerous to feel that too much.

She was leaning into the banister, the small water reservoir outside behind her, as she watched the dark eyes of the guy they had just captured. The proof Miles needed. Then she watched Monroe. After he tied the asshole down, his eyes were now on her.

And she was not sure if he was looking out for her, making sure she was okay before he left the room to find Miles, or that he was looking for support in their strange messed up bound they somehow managed to form in the weeks where it was him and her.

No matter what was in his eyes, what he was looking for, Charlie did not move a muscle, but did answer with her eyes, with a nod.

When the night was over, midnight far behind him, John Fry dead on the floor of the mill as the proof Bass thought they could use to start that war and the Texas going nuts over this, he looked for her eyes again. First he had looked at Miles. Blue, wide, in this light darker than normal, as Miles had been so pissed. Her mom cold. And she saw the confusion there, that honest mixture of Monroe being Monroe and laying open right before them, as the last set of eyes he held in that room were hers.

Two hours later

Charlie moved through silent paths. The shed where Monroe stayed on the outskirts of town now in sight.

'And why would you do that.' Her mother's words, ringing in her ears. Her sway of her hips more pissed. Suggesting enough. Suggesting he had done the unspeakable to her, leaving no room whatsoever for her own world of thoughts. For her own decisions. From the very start she had walked in, she had felt it. Her mom's words already there. Charlie knew she would not tell her mother about that bar on that awful night. She would bear that burden alone. Monroe had saved her life. And Charlie had the intention to tell her mother that, make her understand why she had shifted. That her whole set of believes were moving slowly because Monroe turned out to be of them. Another man she had pictured in her head. That she did not wanted to become her mother. But one line from him, had made her see, maybe she was headed there. And it was the part in her, the part that was Ben, that had woken up after stubborn weeks of ignoring that voice inside of her.

'Because he is here to help.' The truth. 'And I brought him.' No misunderstanding of her intentions. If she did not want to, she would have let Monroe go to hell right there, never bringing him within an inch within her family.

'I don't understand, this is what you wanted.' Monroe's voice, looking for anything in Miles he probably once knew, now everything was different.

'Monroe?' She asked, when she slipped through the open door.

'Hey,' he said gruffly.

He looked at Charlie. Somehow on that roof, he had called her Charlie. Exchanging binoculars with her like he had with. Well, with Miles. He had stopped her, when she was about to rush in the town. She had no fucking pushed him of the roof. He had her wrists between his fingers, as he had to get through to her. He had. To his own damn surprise she had listened, they had made a plan first. But wasn't there something of having that tanned skin of hers right under his hands. All smooth but at the same time strong and muscles.

Charlie stood before him, a canteen, water, blankets and some other basic stuff in her hands.

She turned around, wanting to place the stuff she brought with her on a crate . And there it was, when she locked eyes with him. That deep, almost yearning look, lips pressed together as he looked at her, through her and she could do only one thing. Look back. Feel back.

The past few weeks had not erased all that was there. But it had been there. That almost there to hold distance that was slowly disappearing between them. Something so strong. He had done good things for her. She had saved his ass back when they were ambushed by some scum, flashing her knife into the one standing not far from Monroe. Heartbeats between them, as the forest around them turned more yellow from the sunset. The yellow light coming through the trees, showing the particles in the air floating.

They had made it through, the days rolling up into weeks. Weeks of figuring out how to communicate, work together. Weeks in they had finally talked a bit about Miles. Another week in and she had given him a plate for dinner after she went hunting for squirrel. Another couple of days when it was him that reached her her knife, their hands barely touching, their eyes on the other. Another week when his blanket were around her feet as an extra layer of warmth, when he had gotten up to make sure their water canteens were full.

The same heartbeats just after that fight in the forest, the same heartbeats as he had looked at her right before he had walked towards Miles in the Mill, when he waited for her to give him the all clear before he would leave her with that asshole tied up in that room, they were between then now too.

The blanket, knife and water had not even touched the crate when his boots made the ground shake under her when he moved across the shed. Moved to her.

The light fell on his moustache, attracting her eyes towards it, as he looked at her with burning eyes and lips pressed together.

It was like he was waiting.

He could read the desire in her eyes. And his whole body repsonded to her.

He was beyond tired, he was beyond fucked up, in the lion's den. But with Charlie there, Miles there. Accepting him here for now. Charlie stepping up in front of him, as she had her no bullshit voice on as she had confronted Rachel, who of course had her hands on a shotgun in no time. The moment he saw her, he knew how fucking wrong he had been. Charlie was nothing like Rachel. She was so much more.

She was a part of Ben, forgiving, sensitive.

She was a part of Miles, all stubborn, taking no bullshit, all attitude in the strong I am right in your face shit, the fighting in her blood. But she was her. Her.

And when he had heard her outside the shed, her belt clinking in the night silence he had looked up, put his gun away and had continued, crouched down in front of and busy with unrolling his bed roll for the night.

She pushed herself of her feet, towards him as Monroe caught her, gliding his hands under her thighs, his fingers almost in the skin of her ass as he lifted her. At the same time he moved her over to one of the sheds walls, a corner in the dark. He played with her weight, lifting her a bit with ease that drove right between her legs and into her core, readjusting her in his arms, his palm still on the border of her ass and upper legs.

Charlie felt how she was placed against his upper legs, his boots firm under her, his thighs pushing her up and her core closer to where his cock was. There was something about it, that drew her closer. All this hate, but so much of fire.

She fumbled with his button until the base of his cock was wide against her wrists.

She wriggled her hips to get out of one of the legs of her pants. Her panties not even there, as she had given up on the whole clean underwear a while ago now. Being on the road could be a bitch. His eyes glowed in the dark as he realised she was not wearing anything under her pants.

The town outside gone to bed, the sounds outside calm as she stood there.

In that dark shadowy corner of the shed. So forbidden feel of wanting him so much, him holding her.

Her so damn small splayed out on his lap, as he felt how small she was, perfectly fitting under his chest. That pussy of hers there for him to conquer. For him to have. She wanted him.

Monroe pressing her with those impossible wide thighs and tall strength against the wood behind her.

One strong arm, bandana around it, taking his cock in his hand. The head against her clit. Her eyes boring into him as the intensity in his eyes reminded her of so many other times they stood face to face. But with more there.

One thrust. His face sharp, his jaws clenched. His first thrust. His cock, heavy and proud balls under it, now inside of her as she felt herself stretch.

He kept her in one place, her body now slumped over his thighs, leaving her now place to go, no other place for her build up lust than go her eyes while she looked at him.

No kisses. It would mean too much.

Another thrusts and she watched his neck shimmer in the moonlight, the lines of his muscles so hot.

Lust.

His strong wild scent.

He kept pushing inside of her, the rhythm escalating. The sounds of his body meeting hers, as his heavy thrusts made sounds that made her lust for her orgasm even more.

As this was them, after weeks on the road, when nothing was the same as before, right before things would move on again.

'There..fuck yes...' Charlie could not keep quiet anymore, as Monroe moved his cock inside of her, with one angry thrust. The sight of his boots somewhere under her, her legs dangling in the air and his wild lustful look in his eyes brought another deep moan out from inside of her.

Bass had to keep his jaws locked at the sight of her, her hair wild, her breathing fast, her tits under that tank, fuck he wished he could tore of that tank right now, but his cock only wanted her more.

It was like his eyes burned, his eyes with every thrust like they had been when he put his sword into each and every men in that bar.

When she came, she felt how he held on to her, pushing her into the same place. Her head, her cheek found a place against the side of his mouth, the hairs of his scruff tingling in her skin. Her lips were parted as she let out a moan, a push of air and desire, as she pushed her hips once more over his cock as she came.

'Hell...' Bass groaned as Charlie almost heard something else rolling of his lips.

Bass had to clench his jaws to not groan her name. Just as he felt he needed to come, her thighs and the look of her honey soaked curls around her pussy leaving him no other fucking choice, he pulled out, balanced her as he jerked off in the valley of her thighs and wet curls. His cum now in slow pearl white beads on her lower belly.

He had growled her name in silence, when a strangled fuck had escaped his lips.

She didn't want to move immediately. So did he.

And then he give a part of him away that should have been hidden in the dark. Really fucking not wanted her to see.

Bass felt his heart wild in his chest, as his legs felt sated with coming so fucking hard. And then, for a second when he apparently had lost his fucking mind, he lowered his head towards her neck, resting his forehead on soft skin, scent of her so close. She did not move, she did not remove her arms from his shoulders. He had no idea where the road behind had left them.

It was the closest to where she had ever allowed him. And he wondered how much strength this woman was able to give him, by simply saying nothing, and accepting him there when it was sweat and chest against her.

He did not allow himself to feel any of that for longer.

But when she was dressed, when he stood there, her warmth against his chest, her soft wetness still around his cock he moved over to her again.

Pressing one hand against the door of the shed, above and close to her head.

What the fuck was he going to say. Thank you? Goodnight? Great fuck? He inwardly let out a huff of air of how fucking stupid it sounded.

He went for the truth.

'You take care of yourself Charlie.' His voice was raspy with exhaustion, the great fuck minutes ago and whatever the fuck he had come to feel for her. It was a plea for her to stay alive, because she was just like Miles, a pain in the ass, but fuck did he already grew found of her. Rachel with her bitching welcome for her, her family, her being back here after months straying in the plains. He was not sure what the hell happened, but he knew this girl been through much. And she still walked him in here. Only that, had founded the first layer of respect he had for this girl.

He played with a lock of hair that had fallen on the front of her jacket for just a second as their heads were close.

'Goodnight Monroe.'

She knew that somehow he meant it.

Her shoulder was close in the nook of his chest. She almost pressed her forehead against the strong line of his jaw. Their lips so damn close for a second. Maybe they brushed. Somehow she tasted him. Allowing herself to find some of him, close to her as he gave her the time to take what she needed.

It was not just them anymore. They felt it too.

And it was not what either of them had expected.

He could not deny what he wanted to do. He pressed a soft kiss against her temple.

Bass looked at her as she exited the shed. She had brought him back. He had Miles back. Or maybe he didn't. He knew, things were only starting to begin again.

And as Charlie removed herself from the shed, putting steps between her and Monroe, she wondered how weird it felt, to spent a first night not huddled up alongside a fire, alongside him as she left him there.

Back there in the dark, the clinking sound of the belt around her hips, was there for Bass to hear as that woman was all on his mind now for the rest of the night as the place next to his bedroll felt strangely quiet.

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Thanks for reading everyone, love you are here! Love to read all your stories too, and share our love for the charactesr of Revolution. Next chapter will be the new chapter. Love from Love


	6. One shot six -Hell and her

Here we are, the new one shot for this week!

I know I have neglected this story, but there were so many other stories to read. Today there is another new scene, that takes place in season two. A little reminder, every one shot is placed in the season you know from the episodes until then. And in every one shot, the story has been how you know it, until I change it, that one sizzling or honest or emotional scene where Charlie and Bass are placed in the story.

Today, Charlie saved Monroe's life by asking to spare him. Bass wakes up, and is now groggy and hungry in a house just outside Willoughby. He is groggy, confused and pissed that he still does not know where his kid is. On that day, this one shot starts.

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One shot six

Hell and her

Hell, he had touched the rims of it and had woken up again.

Bass had been through a lot of shit with Miles, but being woken up by Rachel Matheson standing on the edge of a hole in the ground, a hole in the ground he had been lying in, dirt falling on his face when he had not been able to get the fuck out of there, the only thing he had been able to do was pained moan and let out a muffled moan of death fear and agony as nothing made sense. He had felt the strikes of dirt melted to his skin, when it was moving over the lines of his neck.

He had been through all kinds of pain, but not being able to move, cold, alone, _so alone_ , when the dirt rose up to meet him all around him, was a new one.

When sunrise came, he had woken up again. This time on a soft mattress and a brother near his side. The drugs for now pushing back the realisation of what happened. Of the people that were not there with him to find when he had thought he was done.

Although his mind screamed of blonde curls in purple that had been there. _She. Her._

The drugs were wearing off, slowly, retreating like numb feeling, replacing it with a slow feel of rest and giddiness.

He was on some kind of bed, the room high above him. The light fucking soft, realising she was here, Rachel. But Miles too.

Miles.

The broken TV reminded him of movies and home. But that was before.

Before.

Not it was broken with the rest.

He watched how Ivy now grew through the wall as a weird plant from storybooks he barely reminded. When it mattered to be young and pirates or other villains or heroes. A weird twist of time mixing brought summers back from Jasper, when the Texan wind blew through the soft curtains, in the three windows in the room around him.

The trinity of memories, misery and being alone in the bed with him.

He talked to Miles, his words slurry as he felt he could lay back for a while. Let Miles take care of him. Wanting to know where his son was. Asking. Asking again. He did not want Rachel to know, Rachel would fucking break it, with coldness, Rachel would tear it apart. He could not let anyone touch his kid. He needed to talk to Miles. Miles did not tell him. He tried again.

He could feel them, the cold eyes of her on him. That she literally told Miles she did not give a fucking damn about what happened. To him. yeah we got that Rachel. That she wanted to leave.

But in there, in between a brother he knew and a woman that wanted him dead, or at least leave him rot here.

Charlie.

Charlie.

The letters forming a soft word in his mind.

Bass knew she was here too.

And then, he fell asleep again.

Opened his eyes. And found her again.

Charlotte.

Charlie.

Charlie watched Monroe.

Her mother could not care less if he would lay here, dirty, alone. She did. And wasn't that the joke of the year. But last night, the lonely hours spent alone, with Miles, told her more was there. She moved into the room of the place they had brought him in. She had offered to take the next watch, as he realised after she had asked her mom in an empty kitchen to spare Monroe's life had already messed up everything between them. She did not care. This was not about her mom.

This was about a man in a bed in this room that had made her heart beat relieve and faster with the realisation he was alive.

She had waited. Was in the room with him. But not alone. Asked her mom why she did it. Looked at Miles, the salty water she knew he had shed over a brother. From this day she knew the truth, she knew she shared something with Miles. Something for a man that was a connection now to both their lives.

She waited.

And now it was here.

The moment Bass turned her way and looked at her.

'Charlie...' he said, as she heard an urgency in his words.

The moment she came close, he felt something in his chest. He wanted to ask. Ask her if she knew. Ask her to get Miles. Because he needed to know about his kid. But he was scarred. Scarred that it would break before he could get to him, if he told anyone but Miles about his son. Although something told him too, that maybe, he could trust her, with this.

Charlie watched him form something with his lips, but he spoke no more. Bass' eyes fell to the bundle in her arms.

'What's...' he swallowed, 'what's that?'

'Ah its nothing, just some fresh blankets, I've found them.' Charlie placed them on a table next to her.

She could not let him lay here. Just as much as things had been messed up and he could not let her throw up alone near a creek near their fire, his hands close to her back when she had gone through a detox once and the throwing up had been all there was for hours. The purge that shattered through her body. A blanket placed around her shoulders. She had tried to kill him, but here he was. Strong hands, his body angled in a way so he was not a threat. Cold clots, warm cloths, fresh blankets, arms that held her up so she could drink. Arms that placed her on a wagon.

She prepared some water, as it was her turn now and found a cloth. She took a breath and turned around.

She could see the confusion in his eyes.

She stepped towards him.

'Let's make you a little more presentable.' She tried to make her voice sound lighter.

She did notice him, all of him there under that blanket, but he was so vulnerable, that she kept her eyes on the skin and the task before her. She wondered if it had been like this for him to. When he had dragged her out of that bar, her skin against his. Her body cradled in his arms. Arms that moved her so she could sleep. Safe.

'What, what are you doing?' he mumbled. Bass was confused.

When she stepped towards him she could see the confusion turn to panic as he looked from her to the cloth.

'Cleaning you up.' She said, firmly but also slower.

There was something, to see him like this, exposed, raw, and even afraid. The big bad Sebastian Monroe was showing fear in his eyes when a human touch was there, a simple cloth and clean water to touch him.

It moved something inside of her.

She rinsed the cloth in the bowl, wetting it, making sure old dust moved away. And then she started. The cloth reaching his collarbone, the warm sensation of something warm and her hand reaching his neck.

Bass let out a sigh.

'Feels good, doesn't it?' Charlie smiled slowly but firmly at him.

He could only look at her, to her. She was good at this. This woman knew how to take care.

Charlie washed him. Taking new water, adding slow damp to his skin as dirt got washed away and humanity streamed back into the room. He knew he was fucking naked, so did she. But somehow that did not matter now, even when the cloth reached over his thighs and the little hairs around his thighs and lower belly, the line going from his navel and lower. This was about bringing him back to the living, to a simple afternoon and her not looking away.

Clean sheets, her helping him roll over, his head falling against the skin above her tank, so she could reach and place the clean blanket under him. And maybe, and that was a big maybe, the drugs probably playing a game with him, her hand on his upper arm when he wanted to close his eyes and sleep a bit.

Charlie watched him fall asleep, The lines of his strong trained rock hard chest there, on the mattress, the sheet barely over his chest. She put a hand on his upper arm watching him sleep again. She turned and started to clean up the bowl and the cloth. She would stay around.

Two days later and he looked around the room he was in. He had not seen Rachel which was a fucking good thing now the drugs were leaving his fucking system. He had barely seen Miles. God, this place was a dump. The drugs leaving him groggy now. The slow burn of laid back out of his damn system, leaving behind the bitter loneliness of him in the ground, forsaken by fucking everyone and his kid, his everyone, still out there.

And then he heard her. His instincts told him to grasp for his gun before he told himself it was Charlie. He was sitting on the edge of the bed.

'Fucking hell.' Bass groaned.

Groaning because he felt his body react so god damn slow. Realising it was her. He would know that step and that jingle of her weapon belt anywhere. He moved back to tying his boots. He remembered her, fucking close, where he had been acting like some damn idiot. Enjoying a simple gesture of warm hands and a warm cloth to clean him, when he was covered in his own sweat and dirt from outside and this filthy fucking mattress that whores in Vegas would not even use. God, he swore Rachel had a field day, dumping him on that thing.

By the time she reached the room, he was still busy with one boot. There were around his feet, the left over's of eaten apples all around him, but putting them on was like a fucking accomplishment that went beyond him.

'Hey.' She said simply.

He nodded, looking at her.

Charlie looked at him. he was tying his boots, the wall up stronger now he was more like himself again. With those blue eyes, and weary eyes and harsh tone in muscles and face. His strong wide upper arms visible because of the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. He was crouched down towards is boots with his upper body over his knees to reach them. His skin was almost golden and tanned in the late light, and she knew how his skin felt.

She crossed her arms before her chest as she stood in the room, a couple of feet away.

'You need anything?'

'Well, some fucking food and Miles getting his ass over here would be nice.' The drugs, his exhaustion and the darkness of the few days made him need a moment to realise how had he had been with her.

He saw the irritation in her. She was about to turn around.

His voice sounded weary when he spoke. Cursed a Dammit in himself. He pushed himself of the bed. 'Charlotte, I did not mean it like that.'

He closed his eyes when he got up. Dizzy, heavy.

'Fuck.' He swore quietly, for some reason not wanting her to hear.

Charlie sighed, heard his voice, saw him struggle when he was about to spin back to the bed. She crossed the room and somehow managed to grab on to one arm, and help him sit down again on the bed. He sat there, head bowed, looking miserable. She stood close, saw him, as her own boots were somehow close to him.

'Charlie...I' fuck, Anything sounded so stupid. And then his fucking mind did something even more stupid. Her hand was too close. He moved his hand over hers.

Fingers touched. Played. This time she did not touch him because she wanted to return a favour when no one would. The drugs, they where not there anymore to justify the touching.

His arm was long, that even with the height difference as she stood between his jean clad legs, his hand could wrap itself around her neck. he grabbed her swiftly, and she ended up so she could take in his breath. She knew his breath.

Nights on the road had her fall asleep closer then she want to at the end of the weeks, tasting him so close.

This time she touched him, because knowing what it was like to miss him, knowing what it was like to feel when that, him the one being missed, when it was him she missed, she held on to it now. Held on to it now when he was right there before her.

He held on to her, because she was all there was in the room that wanted to sit with him, touch him, be with him. He had been through so fucking much, holding on to her, streaming into him what she was giving him with her decision, with the warm cloth, the fresh sheets. He needed to hold on to her.

She moved closer to him, arms falling around his shoulders.

He played with the stripe of skin under her tank, his hands in a slow dace taking her in.

She was still standing, he was still sitting before her.

That changed, until his forehead wanted to rest on her chin and he knew he could not fucking give in to that. He looked at her.

And there, in the place where he had been kissed by faith and hell, and he had been alive. In the place where Bass had been dead for a night and she had cried. She had actually cried for him. There.

She had realised something had been forged.

They were now something else.

She needed to have him close. He needed her, she could feel it. Needing her by giving her needing him. He needed to be with that one woman, that had brought him back and never looked away to push back the dark memories of the past days.

The town, Rachel, Miles, her mom, her uncle, their past, it was not here now.

Bass cradled her in his arm, his strong arms around her thighs and waist as his hands steadied her. Bass felt her hips, and saw her smooth belly and felt her breathing change as she steadied him.

He watched the light change in her eyes. He saw it in her eyes, the mix of sadness, and knowing you have longing, for a place, for people that want you there.

She looked at him. Unsure, sure. And then, she moved. Bass caught here as he brought them both to the mattress when the stubble of his beard and his lips engulfed hers. It was a kiss with sadness, and kiss with comfort. The drugs still in his system made the kiss feel slow, but then again, maybe it was.

Bass stroked her, her legs, her thighs, her back. She moved and right before he kissed her again, she watched the muscles in his strong neck.

Neither of them were good with words.

'You...' Bass started, his voice raspy. There was an endless implication of so much in his voice.

 _You're here. You're the reason I am here._

'Yeah.' Charlie nodded, as emotions threatened to overrule her and her eyes were intentionally not letting him go.

She looked at him, it was okay. She could have been unkind, expect more of him. But he was bruised and worn, and so was she.

He moved his hand, cradled her against his side.

'Come here.' He whispered with roughly sand in his words, but silently, gently.

He pivoted his body so he moved over her, still on his side, with her in his arm where she had to be from here on now. Charlie held on to her wall, on the emotions she felt.

And then she couldn't anymore. He let her move into the nook of his arm, as he shielded her and he let the warmth of her body come to him. She cried, but she didn't. They just lay here as she smelled his warm skin.

Charlie felt the lust burn through the sadness. They could be so many things with the other. It was complex and drawing her in and perfect and stupid.

Words were left in the corner of what will happen out there.

Clothes found the ground around the bed, near their boots. Charlie felt the smooth skin of his belly and his cock against her all along her body as her naked skin was moved over by his. Curls meeting curls, hardness meeting warm desire. Bass felt her silk and honey and small against him. Ready. There was no need to go fast, they both needed to stay, feel close to the other.

Side by side, he moved her so he could enter her. And the world became slik thrusts, and moans. His stomach against her belly and soft curves until she would come with a moan and his hands stroking her hair to calm her down and his thrust of cum over her thigh and her in his arms.

Three days later, time and a place under the canopy of threes above them just outside Willoughby brought them back together. He had sliced his way through three patriots, the first one with his knife going through the back of his neck. And this time, she did not lay down against the dark wood in a bar but she stood there. All fucking brave and attitude and lips that stood out in the world of fucking grey.

Bass looked at Charlie.

Charlie saw him, as it had been three days since it had been a lazy afternoon with long kisses and smouldering thrusts.

He said something about some guy she did not even knew, _I'm Batman_ but it did not matter. He was here, and he looked straight at her, and through her, with those eyes that had been watching her when he had her there pinned and held and his leg wrapped around her hip and his skin against her hand and he had made her climax with just his eyes.

He knew. He knew that no matter how fucked up this was, she had wanted to be there. She had deemed his life worth saving.

Bass looked at her. And as he grunted a _go go,_ to make them move, his hand reached out to her. His arm strong, almost reaching, towards her body, as he wanted to make sure she would follow, because she had, she had to be safe, realising, and also at the same time, not give a fuck really, that Miles and Rachel were right fucking there.

He turned. Felt her right there, behind him. God help any fucking patriot that he would face. He would fucking slice them all. Bass felt Charlie there, under the canopy of threes. The rhythm of his boots on the floor. And he knew.

She knew. They were in this together now.

He knew she knew he would come back for her.

 _Auhtors Note_ I loved writing this, because Charlie felt what it would be like to miss him, and his drugs and the fact what happened to him, made him more raw, and put them here in this one shot.

It also gives more to the scene where Bass fancies himself to be superhero. ( best one line ever people in the show) That scene, where he looks at her, and gestures at her to follow, and all the things in her look at him had so much power.

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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this scene I added. More in 'Jealousy' soon.

Love from Love


	7. One shot seven - Guns and honesty

**Hey everyone, I am so sorry I stayed away so long for another one shot in this series of 22 shots. Just so many things to write and so little time every now and then...Today it is time for one shot seven! It is another answer to the question of what would happen if something more happened between Charlie and Bass in this point of the story you know from the episodes? In every one shot time resets, so the story until this scene will be the canon story you know from the episodes.**

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Guns and honesty

The jolt of gunfire far in the distance moves through her gut. The sound is filling the dark night in between the leaves and branches of the trees around her in an aggressive tone. Charlie moves with agility and speed through the night. Keeping out of sight, her gun in her hand, ready for whatever she will find.

She finds trouble. She hears the guns blazing through the trees. Aaron. Her heat frightened for Aaron and Cynthia who have to be here somewhere if the map from the underground system under Willoughby was right. Her sense of direction and skill have led her to the place she knows Aaron and Cynthia must have found as their exit.

When she is running through the forest, carefully avoiding rocks and roots, her mind is flying to another man that should be out there.

Her heart and what it has been telling her about him shocking her when she had watched him being rolled into town in that cage by the Patriots. Her tears shocking her even more after she thought he had been dead, standing on that town square with Aaron. Miles' tears and him reaching out for her hand in that bar rocking her through her core like his grieve for a little brother rocking through him.

Her heart ambushing her with a giant leap into so much when her mom told her Monroe had been alive. Her smile catching her of guard for a drugged up Monroe who had been so different that it had put on a smile on her face that had not been there for so long.

Al that shock for herself and so much more deep under the surface for one man. Monroe.

Miles and her mom busy with her grandpa leaves her here in the forest alone. Looking for Aaron, making sure he is all right. Miles had not put up much of that much of a fight, nodding at her to go when she made it very clear she was going.

So she had sneaked out of town and had made it to the side of town. The metallic of boats and cars left behind on an abandoned field right outside town catching the light of the moon.

She hears someone run, a shadow in the forest. Taking her back to another day when she chased Monroe through another forest, on her way to kill him after their day strapped in a pool from hell. She follows the shadow, fast on her feet. She can easily catch up. Which sound be the first sign warning her.

She knows it is him.

When she reaches him he turns around with wild eyes and his blade aimed at her. He waves on his feet and his moving lack the precision of death and laced with experience she knows is purely Monroe.

His shirt hangs open, a v neck shirt with a low neckline under it that is filled with the wide strength of his chest.

Bass waves on his feet, pointing his blade at something in front of him. He tells himself to focus but his thought are swirling around in too fucking slow circles. But hell. It is her. Her. Eyes that moved straight through the steel of his fucking cage when they rolled him through town right before those fuckers almost killed him. Her eyes. Eyes so fucking deep he had not been able to look at her long. Finding too much in it that should not be in there for him.

'Jesus Monroe,' she hisses. Her gun in hand and her eyes going from his shoulders, blade, boots on the ground and then back to his eyes.

Bass registers he is waving a blade at Charlotte Matheson and he knows it that is probably not the best fucking decision he could make in the history of ever.

This girl can kill him of if he pisses her of now. She already had almsot fucking killed him on more than one could certainly finish that job now when he needs to catch his fucking breath.

Charlie looks through the forest, never not aware of their surroundings. It is quiet now at the other side of the trees.

'I uh….I think I need to sit down…' Bass starts, no venom in his words, just a tired drugged up lace around his words.

He hears himself, knowing he is repeating himself. He just told Staypuft and his girlfriend the same. He is putting his hands on his knees and almost sees double. His breathing feeling like it could drown in his chest.

He feels the weakness pulling him under and has not even got the strength to curse because of it. His legs feel like some damn jelly and he wants to fucking move but he can't. He has worked his way through two patriots and he feels like he has been in battle for three fucking weeks. Making him curse at how fucking much drugs they had put into his system.

He had some intention on keeping his word to Miles to keep Staypuft and whatever hell that scared bambi next to him on the ground was until patriots had started to open fire. And since he was only holding a damn blade he had chosen to stay the hell alive.

Dying once a week was fucking enough.

He had left them both behind and had run for cover. Running straight into her. She was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and something else he had no energy to think of right now.

He stumbles back and lands his ass on a rock that is big enough to sit on. He feels her so damn close as he hears the chains of her belt around her hips move over to him with a moment of surrealism through the air.

It is the first time he sees her after laying drugged up on some filthy mattress.

Charlie feels her body react before she can even think. She rushes over to him, grabbing his wide bare upper arm to steady him.

'You look like hell...' Charlie says with a flat voice but with some concern moving into her gut for the way his eyes are big and dazed and almost black in this light. He is tall before her, even sitting down. He smells like sweat, sweat she sees reflected on his skin by the moonlight.

He feels the warmth of her fingers around his upper arm.

'Where are Aaron and Cynthia, Monroe?' Charlie tries to reach through his distorted look in his eyes.

There is something about this man showing his weakness that gets to her again. Monroe showing her his holes in that mask she thought was him.

He shoves his arm away from her fingers quickly like she stung him and is about to say something with unfocused eyes.

Charlie moves her hand back, unsure what he is going to do. This is Monroe, he is unpredictable as hell.

Bass instantly regret it as he feels the shift in her. He has no fucking clue why she even bothers to sit here and babysit him. He does know he does not have to be a giant fucking asshole to her. But then he is fucking dizzy and about to disappear into some kind of blackout that starts around the edges of his vision and he feels sick to his fucking stomach.

'Monroe, where is Aaron? Where is Cynthia?' Charlie hisses as she tries again, her eyes scanning their surroundings and looking for them.

He wants to tell her he does not give a fuck. That they are probably captured or whatever. But he could not care less. Not about them. He gives a fuck about someone else. Someone else out there because Miles hid him and is now refusing to tell him where the hell his kid is.

Charlie watches his tanned skin, a layer of thick sweat and strong muscles under it. His sweat on the lines of his collarbones, chest and neck are reflecting in the moonlight, as her eyes move over the strong lines of his neck and jaw.

His eyes meets hers.

He tries to get up.

'I need to...find...' His mind is slowing down around one thought. His kid. His son. But he cannot tell her, he can't. It is too fucking much. His voice sounds harsh and tired and fucked up like hell.

Charlie's eyes move fast over his face.

Her hand is close to his leg. He watches her sitting next to his left knee, crouched down next to him. Her eyes blue, her lips a bit moist and glistening in the moonlight. He cannot stop to look at her and those fucking lips of her.

And then the memory of being buried fucking alive shifts through his gut. The terror of waking up in the damn ground, forsaken by everyone. Nobody caring if he lived or died. The bile in the back of his throat of Miles betraying him. Emma, fuck even her, betraying him by never even mentioning Connor. By keeping him away from his son long before the blackout and he still was how he was.

A sickening ache for his son out there, after losing her, that one child he never got to have and hold. Miles refusing to tell him where he is when all he wants is to fucking reach him. It all swirls around in his gut when it finally gets too much.

With one large arm he pushes Charlie away when he pushes himself up from the rock. He retches, with a deep sound filled with aching and pain coming from his throat that makes him double over. His hands are on his knees when his stomach keeps emptying itself in deep aching waves.

Charlie does not even move. She watches Monroe, doubling over as she watches his dark eyes filled with misery and wide upper arm that is uncovered by the sleeve of the shirt that is still not around his arm, dangling from his arm. She watches him retch over and over again.

Bass retches and empties his stomach. It fucking hurts deep inside and he feels fucking pathetic that she is here to watch him like this.

He expects her to snarl at him, to use his moment of him being weak and not even able to stand on his feet. Not because of the drugs but for the sheer aching for his son, for the sheer fear he will be too late. For the destroying hurt knowing Miles kept him from him.

The pain all comes out with him emptying his stomach.

Feeling dizzy and miserable and locked in his own lonely cage, the one they rolled him in into town. When his stomach finally settles and he can stand straight again, he watches her with unfocused eyes that try to focus on her.

She is standing there waiting, looking at him, concern now visible in her eyes. And then Bass realises it like the harsh sound of a gun going of. Somebody does care. Someone did care if he fucking died. Maybe it was Miles. But maybe. Fuck. Hell. Maybe it was her.

'Monroe what are you talking about?' Charlie steps towards him. 'Who do you need to find.'

They lock eyes under the trees in the dark of the night. And maybe he is fucking stupid for even considering telling her this, another Matheson here with a piece of his damn heart in their hands in a couple of seconds if he does. But this is Charlie. There is a raw strength in her heart that makes him dive right the fuck in.

He grunts something, swallowing the acid taste of the retching away. He has to sit down again.

'My kid, Charlotte..' Bass voice is filled with agonizing longing when he looks at her, '..my son.'

He watches the surprise in Charlie's eyes and then some softer blue when what he is telling her settles in.

'You have a son?' Charlie feels stunned. Stunned at him having a kid, stunned at the agony in the muscles of his neck when he talks about him. 'Wait, what?' Where is he?'

'Miles...he knows where he is.' His voice sounds tired and when her eyes feel with more shock at that piece of information he realises it is too fucking much. He cannot share this with her. This has to fucking stop. Now.

'What are you talking about?'

'Dammit, Charlie...I need to get to Miles. I kept my end of the bargain and now it is time he keeps his.' He barks to her.

There is hurt in his voice but also the roughness she knows from Monroe. He let her in, somehow for only a couple of moments he had let her in. But now, she can feel it under her fingertips. He is shutting her out again.

He shuts his eyes, taking a harsh breath in. When he opens his eyes she is standing next to him.

And then, when he watches her hand move his shirt back over his shoulder when he finally can breathe again and his throat is aching for the sting of acid and bile, he knows. Her fingers are almost gentle when she moves his shirt back over his shoulder, the gesture so much like Miles. Strong and without sentiment that was not him. Strong care.

And he knows. He knows it was her who saved his ass. Who had somehow managed to let that injection not be lethal. It is her who gave him a chance to find his kid. Feeling like hell, but still be here.

It is her.

'It was you right?' Bass watches the ground, before he has the nerve to watch her.

He know she will tell him with her eyes, just like she told him so fucking much with their war of words in that damn pool. And he is not fucking sure he is ready for her to answer. If he wants her to answer what he fucking hopes for.

Charlie's leg is almost touching his knee when she stands next to him. She knows what he means. She has to swallow. Look at Monroe.

'Yeah...' It is a sigh and a whisper and something she lets go from a corner in her heart she normally carefully shields.

He tells his arm to stop but he can't. His lazy and treacherous mind moves in a way around ratio. Without looking at her his fingers touch with hers, just for a fucking second of contact. It is not even a brush and before his fingers can latch on to hers. He still cannot look the fuck at her.

Charlie watches him reach out and finds she cannot pull away. Somehow within a week, the strongest most hardened men in her life, brothers, generals, now her warriors next to her in this fight, have reached out for her hand. Craving to touch her.

His fingers almost lace through hers when he ears the sounds of men shouting. They are back. He curses at his dizziness when he flies up from the rock, moving in front of her.

And he knows for her, he will not walk the fuck away. He remembers staypuft, standing next to Charlie when Rachel was about to fucking almost kill him and his brother had been nowhere in sight. He knows what he has to mean to her because of that. So he will go back. Save his puckered ass. Not for Staypuft, not for bambi. Hell, not even for Miles.

But for the woman that owns a piece of his heart, a piece of himself now she has saved her. She moves next to him. And he knows there is no fucking way she is coming. Dammit, he needs her to get the hell out of here. His veins pumping with the need to take her the hell away from him.

Charlie knows someone has to warm Miles that everything went south. She knows. She will be faster, knowing the town. It is the most logical choice.

He watches her struggle and they fight over her leaving him here just with their eyes in seconds. Finally Bass has enough.

'Charlie, dammit...get the hell back to Miles and your mom.' Bass yells at her with an angry roar. He curses something right after it.

She moves back, hurt in her eyes.

And then, then she is pissed. He did a lot of things, but placing her back at the kids table is something she is not used to. From her mom and Miles and her grandpa, yes. But not from him.

Bass realises what the hell he has just done. And he knows there is only way to settle this now.

He takes a step towards her but she takes a step back. He takes another one towards her. Yanking her towards him with his strong large arm and fingers that touch her arm and then her back. Crashing her mouth onto his while his chest is waiting for her to crash into. She can feel the sweat against her bare arms, she feels his fingers, his arm that never seems to stop.

She tastes him, all of him. He takes her in the way she has seen him fight.

He takes her in a way he has wanted for such a long fucking time now, showing her they are in this, thanking her for giving him another chance to find his son. Telling her things his heart had not even being able to feel in so fucking long, locked in the dark of control and ruling his Republic alone.

The kiss rocks them both and is filled with every damn thing they are not ready to talk about.

He pushes her firmly but without hurting her away from him when they are both breathing hard and looking at the other. His voice is close enough to feel him breathe into her ear.

'Go..get Miles...Charlie...I will go back for staypuft...now go...' She watches the plea in his dark eyes. She heard him calling her by the name he knows she wants to hear. It is spoken with urgency but with some kind of respect.

They both know she cannot take those patriots on her own. He can. And when she looks into his eyes, she knows he will.

So she nods, as he nods back and some of their bond returns. Fighting together, on a equal basis.

He forgets the need to kiss her. To keep her where he can fucking protect her. He can't. Not here. Not ever because he fucking does not deserve her. Not her. Even when her eyes told him something fucking else. He looks at her one more time as she does the same.

When he will see her again it will be when he will be slicing his knife through another man's throat for her to get her out of danger. She will tell him with her eyes right after what a son of a bitch he is together with relieve and something else that will tighten his damn pants. They will both remember what the fuck happened here. But for now he curses something, as he sees two more kaki's approach.

And with regret Bass lets Charlie go with his eyes as he watches her move back into the shadow of the forest.

He starts to move back through the trees.

He pulls his blade and focuses on his next kill. Not for staypuft. Not for Miles.

For her.

* * *

 **Author's note This one shot was about honesty and the truth. A raw vulnerable moment followed by a lot of passion. Thanks for reading! The next couple of chapters for Chemistry are almost written and filled with more passion. All kinds of Charloe passion... Love from Love**


	8. One shot eight - Meeting her,meeting him

**Set in episode eight. And this one shot, just like the others in this series, is an answer to the question of what would it be like if something more happened between Charlie and Bass in this point of the story you know from the episodes in season two?**

Meeting her, meeting him.

As the bullets are flying through the dark forest around her she hears her own breathing inside her own ears.

Miles is not that far. He is like a shadow just behind her. Her mom is not that far behind her She runs, avoiding roots of trees under her boots. The shadows of the trees flying over her face. She hears the guns going off. Too close. The sound of bullets are crashing in the air because Truman and his men have found them. Her grandpa is buying them more time as she had sneaked out through the back door with her mom and Miles.

She runs. She does not stop running but she does feel it. The sharp but yet dull sting in her side. She feels numb and then she feels even more filled with adrenaline. She runs, she tells herself to keep on going. The sounds of the bullets are moving back in the distance as Charlie moves deeper in the forest. Her own breathing echoing around her ears. But her mom is not there anymore. Miles, her shadow, right behind her is not there anymore. The pain in her side is.

But she cannot stop, because she does not know anything else but to survive. So she keeps on running. Until the forest is quiet. Until she has to stop. It is then when she hears it, the sound of a boot on a twig. Another wave of adrenaline meets her inside her veins.

She turns, aims her weapon and right before she is about to pull the trigger two things happen at once. She sees him, Monroe. And then she cannot stand on her feet anymore and she almost goes through her knees.

He is with her in a heartbeat. His strong hands grabbing her, one hand on her back, the other under her armpit holding her up. He moves her towards the ground, never letting go of her.

Bass is breathing fast, he has been roaming this fucking forest for any sign of Miles after those kaki's have found Aaron and his bambi girlfriend. And he was done. They would not kill Aaron on the spot, but him however...he could not afford to get himself killed, not when his son was out there and he needed to get to him. Miles had hid the kid long enough. He was fucking done.

He was on the north side of the forest when he had heard the sound of guns going off in the distance and her stumbling through the forest _, fucking alone_ , instead. Something in the way she moved before she was about to drop down through her knees made every single alarm bell in his mind go off.

She is hurt. The thought claws into his heart. The wide terror of that idea filling his heart and veins fast. Bass sees her reach her for her side. He crouches down before her, removing any distance between them.

'Charlie...hey...what happened? Where is Miles?' His first instinct is to make sure she keeps talking to him. His voice raw because of days on the bed an being drugged out of his damn mind.

Charlie looks from him back to the wound and then back to him. She can and cannot believe he is here at the same time. The asshole always is. But that is not the worse of her problems right now.

She moves her trembling adrenaline filled fingers towards her tank as she lets her weapon fall on the ground next to her. She lifts her tank as Monroe is sitting right in front of her. His knees so close to her thighs. She moans a small whisper of pain when she has to left her tank up. The bullet only grazed her side but there is blood and there is pain.

She moves her head back against the three behind her. And it is not the pain of the bullet wound in her side, but the pain of betrayal that makes her drive through her knees again even when she is sitting on forest moss against a tree with Monroe crouched down so close in front of her. It is not the pain in her side and her blood against her fingers that makes her want to tell everyone to go to hell and feel so god damn alone at the same time.

It is the pain of her grandfather betraying them all. It is the raw pain and salty raw tears in her eyes of seeing her grandpa stand next to Truman, hearing how he accused Aaron and Miles of the bombing.

It is the pain of having to see her mother again, hate filled and cool and only listening to what she thinks is right, ready to kill her grandpa for another round of what she wants. Which was dropping that poisonous bomb of chemicals into the shaft of that patriot basement to wipe out Horn and her grandpa in one sweet. And god, doesn't Charlie feel the betrayal of her grandpa. But watching her mom move into ice hate mode again right in front of her eyes after everything that is behind her, took its toll today. Only adding more to her mother floating between imploding into self destruction and self hate and seeing that hate at work when she wants someone dead.

The disappointment. The hate. All that hate, all those people, people who are her family, bringing her through her knees.

The betrayal of the people that are her family. Not being sure how much she could take. It all mixes with the copper pain of the wound inside her chest. Large wide hands with roughened skin on the fingertips around her face are bringing her back to the forest.

His hands.

'Hey Charlie, stay with me all right?' Bass keeps on talking to her, seeing something of defeat in her eyes he fucking hates seeing inside of them. She looks so damn lost and that says a lot about the woman that tried to kill him minutes after waking up from a drug coma those assholes in that bar had put her in.

He cups her face and holds her. His fingertips rubbing her cheeks to bring her back to him.

'Let me take a look huh?' His fingers almost tremble too and he tells himself to get a fucking grip.

Charlie just looks at him, sitting in front of her under a tree. His skin is laced in sweat that reflects the moonlight. His eyes are wide but not filled with his usual ego. She takes in the scent of his sweat, a strange familiar scent that she knows now, after weeks with him on the road. It is strong, low and mixing with the scent of the night around her.

It is the first time she sees him after she had found out he was alive, after she had smiled, really smiled, and god this she forget what that was like, when Monroe went al buddy buddy with her uncle. Embarrassing Miles along the way with the best friend speech he got from his best friend. The whole damn thing had been too cute.

And now he is here. And he is Monroe again. Or what she thinks is Monroe. He is different. With her he is. And he is here. Alive. With her. She looks at him, at this tall wide strong force of a man that is Monroe is front of her.

Bass checks the wound as his fingers touch the skin of her side. She sucks in a breath when he touches her and he apologizes to her with his eyes. His jaws locking when she whimpers from the pain. She sees it, she does not miss it.

Bass feels her own pain move right through him like a damn bullet on its own. He works as fast as he can, as gentle as he can, not to hurt her even more. She does however not move away from him. She is so damn close, her skin smooth under his fingers and her mouth close enough to touch with his. He forces all those thoughts out and focuses on the wound again. It is not deep and he rips a piece of the sleeve of his shit from his arm.

He takes care of the wound, and her, _dammit_ , her, the best way he can. Her eyes slowly move more into her normal focussed self and he feels a sigh of the worse relief moving away from his chest.

Charlie feels how the first numb shock moves away and she is focussing again on getting up as fast as she can to find Miles so they can free Aaron. Her mind already searching for her gun again. But she cannot help but feel the care in Monroe's fingers. He is gentle, so gentle she forgets to look away when she sees his fingers moving over her skin. His fingers that move back the fabric of her tank over her belly. And she remembers, how it was with just them on the road.

Charlie waits till he locks eyes with her again. 'I have to go back...Horn, they...they have Aaron.'

Bass nods, understanding. Remembering and seeing Aaron standing right behind Charlie the night adorable Texas decided to execute him. He knows what that guy means to her. He wants to talk the whole damn idea out of her mind, his instincts screaming she is walking straight into hell again. But he knows her. Her loyal heart. And he, he needs his kid. So he needs to go where Miles is now. He will go where she goes. He has waited long enough.

'Can you get up?' Bass asks, looking at her and locking eyes with her. He can feel her breathe against his scruff.

'Yeah...I think so.' She nods, pushing herself up from her place on the ground with one hand covering her wound. Monroe's hand is placed for support under her shoulder blades and the other wrapped around her upper arm with firm gentleness to help her.

Bass watches her, watches how she is moving too fast. 'Hey, take it easy.' His words are rolling of his lips with a low raw warmth.

It is the way he sounds, just like the way he spoke to her near that fire that makes her tilt her head and look straight at him. Low, raw honest care radiating from his words. She forgets to move until she remembers herself to keep on going.

Bass helps her find her balance and hands her weapon. He moves one arm around her middle to steady her. The other hand is wrapped around his gun. His eyes scanning the forest. Ready to move when anyone gets between him and Charlie. Ready when anyone tries to attack them. Her.

'Come on..' He nods to her as she is testing her legs. He helps her walk and she lets him. They move slow but move feet by feet towards the town walls until Charlie finds more of her strength and he feels her picking up the pace. Until she stands still and he can see something happening in her eyes and mind.

'Stop.' Her voice is aching but her strength is moving through the pain.

Bass looks at her, his hand still steady on her hip. He makes sure both of them keep going.

'Monroe..stop.' She tries again, her face forming into a grimace when she speaks and feels the wound in her side again.

'Charlie..dammit..come on.' Bass curses, her hair so close his breathe reach the little hairs from the skin of her neck close and under it. He is not going to get stuck inside another stubborn Matheson discussion. She needs help. Now. He needs Miles. Now. He wants her out of this forest and the shadows of the forest where kaki could hide to attack them.

Charlie watches the firm line of his lips, the annoyance in his jaw lock. She tries to look for his eyes. She finally looks up. And he finally gets what she is trying to say. 'You can't get into town. You can't get any closer than this. They will kill you.'

He is about to say something snarky, fast. But then Bass looks into her eyes, into the calm shore there in her eyes. And he does not only know it was her that saved his ass, he also knows she cares. Dammit, she does. He swallows.

Charlie watches him. As he finally gets something she cannot put into words more than she is doing know.

'I did not go through all that trouble to save your ass to have to watch you getting killed all over again.' She nods to the town in front of her when a small ghost of a smile moves around her lips, all Matheson, all her. Her eyes serious, her voice close to Matheson sarcasm. But the smile, the care, the fighting tone in her words trump the sarcasm.

He locks eyes with her. He follows her eyes then to the wound in her side. He has to swallow at so much of her care.

'Look, it is barely bleeding. I can do this.' She leans a bit into him and she almost lets her heart make the mistake of putting her hand on his chest.

Bass feels her weight closer to his side, pressing against his chest and fuck, does he like her there. He has no fucking clue what is happening here but he cannot hold back. He almost moves his hand towards the line of her jaw. His fingers needing to brush it, to hold her. To feel her.

Charlie feels the shift in him and takes a step back. Her heart beating wild and not ready for what was happening. No doubt in her mind that they were too close. Or maybe there weren't.

Her right hand is wrapped again on her weapon, the other on the wound, adding more pressure. She finds herself feeling the void of his body not by her side anymore. She starts walking, back to Miles, back to the hell waiting there. For him, For Aaron. They need to get Aaron. After everything he has done for him, she will not let him die there alone. He is her family, the one that is never not loyal to her, the one that always tries to see where she is coming from. Loving her and supporting her no matter what.

'Charlie?' His words are holding a low plea that make her turn around and look at him. She nods shortly. Waits for him to talk. Remembering the scent of him, of his fingers against her skin, of his arm around her.

Monroe looks unsure, too open, too raw. It grabs her attention and does not let go anymore.

'I need to talk to Miles.' His words are agonizing when they come out, having a hard fucking time admitting this to her. Bass swallows again, the words coming out taking everything he has to share this with her. The closest thing to looking straight into his heart that she would get. He needs to find Connor, he has wasted enough time. He wants, needs, craves his kid. 'It's uh...' he feels a heavy breathe inside his chest, 'it's important.'

Her eyes are thoughtful, lacking hate or loathing or mocking. It makes this easier and so much harder for him at the same time. He cannot let her go with his eyes. And she just nods, concern in her eyes. He needs to know, he needs to get to Connor.

He needs something else too. He realizes is the moment she starts to walk again after she is finally able to look away from him and turn around to start the walk back to town.

His voice is rolling lowly through the trees until it reaches her and her chest.

'Hey... take care of yourself, all right?' Bass swallows, his voice raw and so low. It's the way her eyes match the lush of her lips that draw his eyes to her face.

He does not miss how she looks at him. Charlie does not miss her heart beat with someone out here that sees her, that gives a shit about her, that is here, caring. For her.

They lock eyes and when she has disappeared into the line of trees before him he looks at her. 'Take care of her brother.' His' voice his soft when he mutters it to the town. before him.

* * *

 **Author's Note Thank you so much for reading, I will update this story again soon!Love from Love**


	9. One shot Nine -Rush

**Hey everone, a little reminder, I do not own Revolution, this is just a daydream of what could have happened too on the show. Today it is time for another one shot for this series, as time resets again for this one shot. The story before this scene is the story you know from the canon story from the episodes.**

* * *

Rush

 _You came back_. It had just been a thought, taking form. He had been there, right there and in front of her. Tall, sweaty skin, blades in hand. Sweat on his shirt, blood mixed with it. Eyes on her. There had been a high school, kaki's, death threats and death on the floor around them. But they had not existed when that moment had pulsated between them.

Between her and Monroe. Monroe had looked at her, unsure. Body tall, but somehow open and turned towards her. She had looked at him, out of breath. He came back. _You came back_. It was just a thought, but the form was so sharp she had almost been able to touch it as it rolled in a not to be stopped stream from her heart towards her lips.

Her heart beating fast, but not only because of the kill. Not because he had sliced his way through men. Again. For her. _He came back._ It had flashed through her mind. And then, when she had grabbed her weapon from the floor and found her ability to speak again her words had come out. Her first words for him.

'You came back.'

He had looked like she had just given him a piece of her. Or maybe she had. What stayed after those words were his eyes, that look, that look that moved straight to her and that made her forget what they were doing here. Which was surviving and get Aaron.

It had been out of her mouth and heart before she even knew it. He had just nodded. Fiddling with his gun. His eyes filled with so much. Too much. Too much gentleness and too much there for her. Too much for one person to give to her. She had felt this invisible force between them, only broken apart by the sounds of more boots just around the corner. Bringing more trouble. It had pushed them forward in the fight they were now facing together as they both ran for cover. Him grunting at her to go, him right behind her, covering her. It had been them, again. Fighting again.

And now, when Cynthia is gone. And Aaron is a grieving mess. And Miles is recovering and her mom is not leaving his side. And now Charlie has to fill her days with watching her mom with her never ending devotion to get Miles back to health as an almost intolerable way to spend her days, Charlie is feeling the sun outside on her face.

She still feels the echo of what happened there between her and Monroe. An echo that will not leave her alone no matter how many hours she spends hunting or cleaning her knives, now there is another sunrise and a cool clear day and time is moving them along again.

The moment still running through her mind now Charlie is walking through the forests that surround their current safe house. Hunting. Thinking. Thinking of him. Doing anything within logic reasons to stay away from him. She has found a little run down shed just yesterday, about four miles from their safe house. It is small and left alone. It is all she needs. A place to think, to be alone, to drink. Think of him. Escape.

She moves silently through the forest as the deep brown weathered wood of the old shed comes into her line of sight through the trees. Brown wood and then familiar shoulders move into her line of sight. He is leaning against the wall of the shed. A strong jaw line. And when she moves under a low hanging tree branch, and she moves the leaves away from her cheek when they are touching her skin, she sees him. All of him.

Monroe. She ignores the rush from her heartbeat to her core, between her thighs as it rushes back to colour her cheeks.

Bass hears here before he sees her. He is not fucking sure what the hell he is doing here. But he needed to get the hell away from being on more look away from puking from all that Miles Rachel crap. He also cannot stop thinking about her, Charlie running through his blood for days now. He cannot shake loose how she came storming in, into that conflict of wanting to go and find his son and get the hell out of that high school and go back because of that fight in there.

But then her face. Her god damn face. And her saving his ass. And just her. All of her. It had raged inside of him when he was about to leave that high school behind him, unwilling to die before he had found his kid. But her, her face, all of her. He had to go back. And when he did, he had expected her blade in his damn chest, but instead she had looked straight at him, slightly out of breath. He had expected everything but Charlie telling him he came back in which she had told him so much. That blue in those haunting eyes of hers crashing straight to him had been too much. First for his damn heart, then for other certain body parts that were aching for her.

Because of her support, because of her seeing him, because of her heart and willingness to give second changes. For the way she fights, for him, with him. Without compromise and so much strength.

Bass knew she would show up. Again, she is not that hard to track and he has found her with ease. He had found her shed over here and had been playing with the idea of what he could do with that information. He had to get the fuck out of their safe house. He was about to beat the shit out of his brother for not telling him where his kid was. He knew the son of a bitch almost died because of blood poisoning and stubbornness. But his kid was out there and all he craved was to find him.

So it was either kill his brother, and Rachel while he was at it, or find a place to drink alone. He had found the old shed a couple of days ago, and when he had found one of her arrows in the sand inside, he knew she did too.

He feels a fast grin coming up, a grin he pushes away when he sees how pissed she is for standing just where he is now.

'You think you could keep this all to yourself huh?'

'Whatever Monroe,' Charlie walks straight passed him, moving into the shed behind him to put down the rabbits she has caught.

He follows her inside, watches her move some sweat from her cheek with the back of her hand.

She feels his eyes on her. The light in the shed is not as strong inside at is outside. She looks at him from the corner of her eyes. He is leaning again, this time against the inside wall of the shed as Charlie is rolling her eyes at him as he is pulling a flask out of his pocket.

'Don't you have anything else to do?' Charlie asks, a little hint of warm anger around her words. She wishes he would go. But somehow, she craves him to stay as well. It is infuriating, the game of want and needing him to go. She focuses again on her hands and her weapons after her hunting trip.

'You mean hanging around depressing as hell Staypuft or Miles and your mom? I do not think so.' Bass takes another round of whiskey from the flask.

There is a bitterness in his words that Charlie does not miss. Something glooming with sadness.

From the start she had felt Monroe would do and say anything to get what he needed. Now she knows there is a kid. A kid Miles hid from him. Now she knows this man is so much more complicated. He and his heart could be open for her to grab and squeeze it until she had him on his knees.

She watches him watch her. She feels how his eyes go to the last reminders of fading bruises around her neck from the kaki asshole that shoved her against the wall in that high school now days ago.

'You all right?' His eyes are going anywhere as his voice moves into territory almost too low for her to hear. Like he cannot look at her, afraid to find what he will find but unable to not look at her. Not being able to wait how she would react but still being there for her to react.

Charlie feels how her heartbeat speeds up at his sudden show of care for her. She is not used to that. Not from anybody. Not from him.

She looks up from under her eyelashes as she nods to him. She sees the same warmth glow in the farthest back of his eyes that she has watched in that high school hallway. She is caught off guard, seeing him before her again in that high school. They are there again, just the two of them, that moment beating in between them.

 _He came back._

Charlie feels the rush to dive in deep into things that are now confined in him looking at her and her looking at him. But not for long. She puts her crossbow down and then looks at him. Leaning against that wall, drinking from that flask. Oozing that Monroe nonchalance but then there is that part of him that shines through his eyes for her, towards her. Charlie has no idea how long they are standing there, just him drinking his whiskey and her with him in that shed, looking.

The rush becomes bigger than being able to walk away.

It is that rush in between her heartbeats, here in the dark shadow of the shed far away from everything that leads to what is happening here. But Charlie knows. It will be her that is in control of when it will start.

Bass observes her. Her eyes are strong and burning as he feels the first curse move into his damn mind. He watches her raise her eyebrow. And then. Fucking hell. She moves her fingers to the hem of her tank and pulls it over her head. Smooth skin is exposed. Her tits in that fucking bra of hers, right there for him to see. He swallows the burn of the whisky down his damn throat as he can taste her through the damn whiskey burn. His pants getting tighter with every fucking second he watches her challenge him.

Those Matheson blue eyes shooting straight at him. He swallows thickly as he moves the hand with his flask in it slowly back to his side like he is reaching for his gun. He keeps his movements slow when he just watches her.

Another heartbeat of unsaid things fills the shed between them as leaves of the trees outside rustle in the wind, so many unsaid things between them. Sometimes matters of the heart are too heavy and raw to put into words. They won't talk about this. But they are both unable or unwilling to let the other go.

She throws her tank on the ground, as he watches her and she feels the cooler air of the shed hit her skin. Bass burns his eyes into hers, it reminds her of so many moments between them. He is a lot of things. he is so many things. Monroe.

 _Everybody left her._ He did too, there in that high school when she had felt honest shock for him leaving her there. Somehow a part of her heart had already chosen to fall for her counting on him. And then, he had left. Her.

But he came back. He came back for her.

It comes crashing through every careful brick she has put into her wall of defence for never ever wanting to feel like that girl again, that girl that was left at the side of the road.

He is there, crashing through. Tall, impossible, raw. Monroe.

There is a mattress in the back of the shed. It is there, impossible for both of them not to see from they are standing. Heartbeats come and go. Charlie looks at Monroe. She is facing him directly. She watches how he throws the flask onto the ground, taking his time to do that and never taking his eyes away from her.

The first steps towards her are slow, like he is deciding what his next move will be. Charlie does not move. She feels her chest rise with every heartbeat of needing to feel those eyes of him in that moment in that hallway as his hands on her skin all of sudden.

His last steps before he reaches her are predatory steps, fast and hungry ones. One hand moves into her hair when his other arm pulls her in for a forceful clashing of their mouths. There is a low grunt laced with the scent of whiskey that moves from his throat over to her lips. She moans when she tastes his kiss.

Bass groans another deep grunt as his fingers make contact with her skin and he has a handful of Charlie's ass in his damn hands. His hand finally lands on her back as she tilts her belly so it moves straight to his lower stomach and his groin.

He curses something under his breath and into their kiss. Charlie feels how it is turning her on, that raw sound of his curse against her mouth. Her hands go to his pants, opening them with her slender fingers, pushing away his pants to feel how his cock is meeting her hand. His hands demand everything of her, his lips hungry.

She licks the sweat from his chest that moves above his shirt, his shirt hanging open. The v neck of his shirt give her easy access to tanned sweaty skin, ready for her tongue to explore.

When he moves his hand in her pants she lets out one agonizing moan that turns into plea for more for what he is able to do to her. One of his large hands in her pants, his mouth on her neck.

He rubs her clit, making her almost come with a couple of hard strokes. He denies her. She angrily kicks out her boots and he does the same until it is tanned body against tanned body. Her smaller one almost disappearing in between his thighs, her body in his arms and against his chest.

The old bed and mattress on it now so close.

Bass stops thinking, he is going to grab this change to taste and feel all of her.

The moment she realises she is feeling him hard between her thighs, he has her already close to him. His large arms and the strength in them make her weight nonexistent when he moves them both over to the mattress. She lands on his lap and she watches his hungry steel in control eyes.

Her legs are on each side of him when his cock lays heavy between her thighs and almost against her wet sensitive core. The wetness, for him, from him, moving over the head of his cock every time he grabs her ass and moves her closer towards him. She is sitting on him, in his lap with his wide thighs right behind her ass.

Bass looks at her. Charlie there in his damn lap, her willing to be with him. he does not know whatever the hell this is, but he knows it is real. A part of his brain that is still working remembers her, there in that gym where they had fought shoulder to shoulder. She had looked at him, one fucking moment of her finding him, before she had started to open her fire again with her destructive force that was so much Charlotte.

Charlie watches him, watching her like he did behind the rubble in that old gymnasium. They had locked eyes and he drank her in. She had to look at him, feeling him right beside her, side by side in combat.

When they lock eyes here and now in this shed hidden in the forest, he moves his thighs. She moves her hips and he fills her completely. The both cannot waste any more time, they just want to be here. The rhythm is one of fire, like triggers being pulled, crashing in each other when he is thrusting in her with deep harsh strokes. She does not seem to mind and when she moans he just speeds up his thrusts.

He grins against her lips when he pushes inside of her, realizing she can match him, in so many fucking ways.

With every thrust Charlie moans deeper as she is losing the fight to control her moaning. Bass moves his hand around her lower back and pulls himself up to her. With every thrust inside of her from Monroe she hears it again. _He came back._ It moves between her panting. Bass thinks of her, how she wanted him back there, at her side. He feels the shift inside of her, her eyes going softer, her arms more thight around his shoulders. She does not seem to notice. She is fucking beautiful this way. He slows down the movements of his dick inside of her as he focuses on that spot that make her eyes lose focus a little bit more every time he hits it with his cock.

He catches her eyes, he catches her.

They almost slow down.

Charlie cannot afford this, to feel him like this under her fingertips. She hides everything she feels with a bruising hard kiss. Monroe moves her closer to his chest as his lips are strong, and Charlie feels his jaw lock under her lips.

She watches the man that should not become what he is becoming to her.

But she can't stop him. This. Them. So she digs her fingers into his shoulder blades, as she is meeting his thrusts with her hips so he can finally thrust her to release. She watches his beard and moustache and dark deep eyes, now there for her.

Bass watches the struggle inside of her, as he watches her. But he won't let her go, not now. He waits, slows down.

Charlie feels the shift in Monroe and then finally, as gentle blue mixes with raw lust she has to let go. She wants to let go. She sinks deeper onto him, feeling how fills her even more. She feels it. She can let go. All of her, just for a while. Here. In this shed, in the middle of that rush between him and her, right before everything out there demands so much of them.

Bass watches her, her eyes and face so close. Charlie in his lap, her thighs around his middle, his hands pulling her close. And there it is. A softness in her eyes he bet she will never ever show anyone else. Not this side of her.

And as long as they are in this shed, as long as he has her here, as longs as she lets him, he moves inside of her, over and over again. Catching her when she comes, pressing her against his chest as his fingers move into her hair, telling her he came back for her.

And he will do that again.

For her.

* * *

 **Author's Note Thank you so much for reading! Re-watching the two seasons of Revolution can be such an inspiration for writing, especially for these series. I love rewatching and still love writing, so thank you so much for being here to ejoy this story with me! Love from Love**


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